The Hope of a Dandelion
by A.L. Munro
Summary: Set after the rebellion. Gale returns to District 12 to look after Katniss. Peeta has also returned but is still blighted with hijacking episodes. Katniss misses Peeta, but takes comfort in the arms of Gale, however, Gale's intentions are not what they seem. Sexual content/violence. Gale/Katniss, Peeta/Katniss.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.  
**

**1**

I stare indifferently at the reflection of my naked, scarred body in the bathroom mirror. The rain begins to tap loudly on the window. Months have passed since I was sent back to District 12 after the rebellion; my physical scars are healing but my emotional ones have remained fresh and painful. With my fingers, I softly trace the reddened skin on my left arm, the scar that Johanna gave me, when she cut the tracker out of me during the Quarter Quell.

A knock on the bathroom door startles me, my wasted muscles tense in surprise. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Gale's deep voice seeps, muffled, through the wooden door, "You alright, Catnip?" I quickly grab a fluffy, white towel, "I'm fine, Gale!" I reply, exasperated. I instantly feel guilty at my stern voice, but I don't apologise. Gale doesn't reply either and I hear the familiar creak in the stairs and the low chatter of distant voices. I quickly wrap the towel around myself and tuck it in so it doesn't fall. I put my damp hair into a simple braid.

When I reach the bedroom, I glance hopefully out the window to see if Peeta is tending to the primroses he planted. However, the rain falls harder now and I think how stupid to believe Peeta would be out pruning flowers in this weather. I desperately want to speak to Peeta, ever since he returned to District 12, but Gale and Greasy Sae think it's safer if I don't for the time being. Peeta is still recovering from his hijacking and I guess the danger of him strangling me or stabbing me with pruning shears is a risk that they are not willing to take.

I hear Greasy Sae and Gale talking downstairs and the smell of food cooking turns my stomach. I dress in a long-sleeved shirt, my sleeping pants and thick, brown socks. I reluctantly make my way towards the kitchen and slump myself in the nearest chair at the large wooden table. "Soup's nearly ready," Greasy Sae trills whilst vigorously stirring the contents of a large pot. Gale sits at the table and glares at me with his piecing Seam grey eyes. I roll my own in response. "So, Catnip, which mood have you decided to be in at this moment in time?" Gale questions sardonically. I feel my cheeks redden and I decide to concentrate on the steam swirling hotly from the large pot on the stove rather than rise to Gale's bait. I hear him sigh, knowing how annoyed he is at my unpredictable moods.

Greasy Sae ladles the soup into two small white bowls and sets them in front of me and Gale, placing a spoon in each bowl. "Vegetable soup, eat up! Especially you Katniss, you're skin and bone at the moment." Greasy Sae tells me this practically every day, but I don't care; I don't feel hunger anymore. Food does not fill the gaping hole in my chest; nothing does. Gale begins to slurp his soup, holding the bowl up toward his mouth. I wrinkle my nose in disgust and gingerly pick up my own spoon. "Oh, I nearly forgot!" Greasy Sae bellows – the soup in my spoon splatters onto my shirt as I jump at the loud noise. Gale bursts out laughing. I scowl at him, but his laughter continues and I begin to feel a foreign pull in the muscles of my mouth; I can't remember the last time I smiled. "I have a little surprise for you, Katniss," Greasy Sae produces a small parcel, wrapped in white tissue paper, and places it on the table in front of me. Gale's laugher reseeds and he leans forward curiously. I carefully un-wrap the delicate paper to reveal four bread buns, on top of the buns is a handwritten note. Leaning over slightly, I take the note and hesitantly read it aloud:

_Dearest Katniss, _

_I wanted to make you cheese buns, as I know they're your favourite, but cheese is as rare as gold at the moment, can't seem to find it anywhere. I guess these plain buns will have to do for now. Please share them with Gale. Take each day as it comes._

_Love,_

_Peeta_

I suddenly feel like too much blood has entered my heart and it palpitates deep within my chest. I dare not look at Gale. I place the note on the table and take a bun and hand it to him, finally glancing up.

All the laughter and curiosity had drained from his face replaced by annoyance. He slowly shakes his head and crosses his arms, "No thank you, Katniss, they're all yours."

"It's just a piece of bread, Gale," I say in exasperation. I place the bread back on the table. "What is your problem with Peeta? He seems to be getting better?" I broach the subject with consternation.

"You know what this guy is capable of; he could turn on you any second. I don't trust him..." Gale replies hotly.

"By the looks of it, he seems fine. He planted the primroses for me. Someone does not plant flowers for someone they want to kill. Why can't we invite him for dinner and see what happens..." I trail off as Gale stands and leans both hands flat on the table, glaring at me.

"I have seen him have those, so called, episodes, Katniss. I don't want you anywhere near him. We are not taking the risk," Gale states.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Gale," Greasy Sae interjects. I glance from Gale to Greasy Sae and feel frustrated; I hate being told what to do. "I see Peeta everyday and he is still struggling with what is real and not real. He is fine at the moment, but his moods are unpredictable." I move my eyes to Gale who was looking towards Greasy Sae nodding in agreement.

"Fine," I sigh, "just thank Peeta for the bread when you see him."

"Will do," Greasy Sae smiles at me, "don't worry, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel."

Gale is sitting back down, smugly slurping his soup. I feel even less hungry than I did before, but since Peeta made the effort to make the bread, I am going to make the effort to eat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**2**

After having eaten half of one of Peeta's bread buns and a few spoonfuls of soup, I thank Greasy Sae and grudgingly walk to the bedroom, dreading another night plagued with haunted dreams. I brush my teeth and glimpse at my gaunt features and empty grey eyes. I barely recognize myself. I pull the dark-ringed skin from under my left eye and peer at the dark pink of the inside of my eyelid. I shudder and let my hand fall back to my side; I don't want Peeta, or anyone for that matter, to have to see me in this state. I look and feel wretched.

I take off my pants, leaving my shirt on and slide into the unmade bed. Leaning over, I switch off the bedside lamp. I lie on my back staring at the ceiling and admire the way the light of the moon forcefully stabs its way through the slightly parted curtains. I don't want to close my eyes as I know I will see them, their ghostly faces; the tributes, Rue, Cinna, Mags, Finnick...Prim.

I try to ignore the heaviness in my chest and the tightening in my throat. I hear Gale enter the room and feel the bed sag as he sits. "Are you asleep?" he whispers gently. "I wish," I groan turning towards him. The trace of a smirk graces his moonlit face. He runs his hand over my head, brushing away any flyaway strands of hair. I close my eyes enjoying the intimacy of his touch. "Move up a bit," Gale murmurs. I move along the bed making space for him, he slides in and I pull the cover over us both. I lie on my back and he lies on his side facing me, resting his head on this hand. We lie there in comfortable silence.

I few moments later, Gale, with his free hand, caresses the skin of my cheek. I gently turn my head and he leans down and presses his lips to mine. I like it. His lips are so soft and I enjoy the feel of his stubble rubbing against my skin. But that is a far as I want to go. My body has been ravaged by the rebellion and the thought of Gale touching me or seeing my naked body is abhorrent to me. I am not ready to go any further, and Gale knows this. These kisses are comforting and reassuring, showing me that I am not alone.

After a couple of minutes, Gale slides his body on top of mine, I tense. "Hey, it's alright," he whispers soothingly. I feel his broad, muscular chest against my breasts. He continues to drop light, innocent kisses against my lips. I relax and kiss him back. The warmth and heaviness of his body is comforting and for a split second my emptiness is forgotten.

"Open your legs," Gales hot breath cascades across my cheek. I am flung back into reality. "Gale...please, I said before, I'm not ready..." I breathe heavily. "Just relax, Catnip. You trust me, don't you?" I timidly open my legs and he slides between them and continues to kiss me lightly on the lips. Gale slides his tongue, hot and wet, deep into my mouth, searching for mine. My heart begins to race and I feel panic contort my muscles, this is too much. "Kiss me, baby," Gale groans. I tentatively allow my tongue to slide across his. Even though I am not sure whether I like it or not, I feel I owe this to Gale, after all, he did turn down his fancy job in District 2 to come and look after me.

I begin to relax again; Gale notices, his kisses become more urgent and his large hand skims my left leg, starting at my ankle, towards my knee, across my thigh, reaching between my legs. "NO, GALE, NO!" I shriek. I grab Gale's wrist and fling it off me. I arch my back and push at his chest with what little strength I have. He growls angrily and pushes himself off me and punches the mattress with his fist. "Damn it, Katniss!" Gale seethes through gritted teeth. The full force of his anger surprises me; I try not to let it show. I sit up, holding my knees to my chest, "I told you, Gale, I don't want you to touch me like that, I'm not ready...I need more time," I groan inwardly at my nervous stuttering. I can't see his face, but I can tell by his hunched posture that he is either disappointed or angry or both. "I can't wait forever, Katniss, I gave up a lot to be here with you. I need this, I need you..." I think he is going to say more, but he waits for my reply. The room is silent apart from our heavy breathing. I feel anger surge inside me, except my words come out as a shaky whisper, "I still need more time to heal."

Gale looks up towards the door and I wonder what he is thinking. He suddenly gets up from the bed. "Where are you going?" I ask, surprised.

"I need a break from all this, Katniss. I just don't know how to be around you anymore, your moods are crazy. You're not the same person..."

"Well, of course I am not the same person, but I am trying; look at all the crap I am dealing with!" I bellow. "You're not the only person in the whole of Panam to have lost someone!" he shouts back. I sit on the bed stunned, I want to cry, but I don't, I am not weak. Gale storms out the bedroom, down the stairs and I shudder when I hear him slam the front door. I feel hurt, lost and alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

3

I had not realized that I had fallen asleep until I was awoken by soft footsteps ascending the stairs. I turn my back to the door, still feeling upset from the argument I had with Gale. The door creaks open, scraping along the carpet. I close my eyes; keeping my breathing shallow, feigning sleep.

I hear the ruffle of clothes and then feel the bed sag, once again, under Gale's heavy weight. I feel the heat of Gale's muscular body press against my back. His warm hand brushes my braid to the side revealing the skin of my neck. I still pretend to be asleep until I feel his cool lips press against the soft, unblemished skin behind my ear. "You awake, Catnip?" Gale slurs, the smell of alcohol evident on his hot breath. "You smell like, Haymitch," I reply in disgust. I feel the laugh in his chest vibrate against my back. His hand moves under the covers gently gripping my hip, pulling me, so I roll onto my back.

"I am sorry about earlier, _sweetheart_," Gale states, perfectly imitating Haymitch. I feel the unfamiliar pull at the corners of my mouth, any annoyance from earlier beginning to dissipate. "You look so sexy when you smile," Gale whispers huskily. I feel a strange heat rise into my neck and face. Gale drunkenly presses his lips to mine. He slides on top of me and I yearn for the comfort of his tender kisses distracting me from the perpetual pain and loneliness. Gale groans, "I just can't resist you." To my surprise and despite the smell of alcohol on his breath, I allow myself to enjoy the soft sounds of our lips moving together. I feel safe and protected.

Gale stops kissing me and my eyelids feel heavy with contentment as I glance up at him. I gaze languidly into Gale's eyes, the light of the full moon illuminating his face. Except, I did not see the same emotions reflected in his eyes. His face was tense, contorted, eyes dark and his breathing heavy. I stare up at him questioningly, and his hand moves toward my face. I anticipate his soothing touch, but instead of cupping my cheek, his large hand covers my whole mouth. I furrow my brow. I still don't understand what he is doing until his other hand moves between our connecting bodies and roughly forces my legs apart, settling himself between them, pressing something hard against me. My heart races with trepidation and I try to tell Gale to stop, but his hand presses harder against my mouth. I feel intense dread as I hear my own muffled pleading.

Gale's breathing is loud and raspy and I stare into his eyes, begging him to stop with my own. He tears his gaze from mine and looks down towards my chest, which is heaving considerably, as I breath emphatically from my nose. Gale's hand reaches further between our bodies; I scream deeply within my throat. I use all my strength to try and push him away, but he is so much stronger, pinning me down to the bed. I sob and flail my legs as I feel his hand push the crotch of my underwear to the side and the smell of alcohol on his breath consumes my senses. Another agonizing scream erupts from my throat, but is stifled by Gale's enormous hand.

Fear, anger and frustration pumps through my entire body; I feel the tip of something soft but firm against my entrance, at the apex of my thighs. Gale's arm is still resting between us. His hips unexpectedly thrust forward and an unfathomable pain rips through me starting from between my legs, shooting through my whole body and forming into a bloodcurdling scream. I wrench my head back against the pillow, arching my body, trying to get away from the pain slicing deep within me. I hear my own strangled sobs as Gale continues to trust in and out of me, breaking me. I begin to hit him with my hands, anywhere I could reach. Unexpectedly, his hand leaves my mouth and I breathe in huge gulps of air. "Stop, Gale, please. You're hurting me!" I wail breathlessly. He roughly grabs both of my wrists and forces them above my head, holding them in place with one of his large strong hands. His other hand instantly returns to my mouth, gagging me again. I turn my head back and forth, trying to shake him off. "Shhhh," he tries to silence me. Another sob is muffled by his hand and I feel so pathetic, lying there, utterly powerless. Gale grunts loudly and I try again to push against him, but all my efforts are futile. After one more excruciating thrust of his hips, Gale moans loudly. His hands weaken and fall from my mouth and wrists. He rolls off me, onto the other side of the bed, his breathing erratic. I feel an uncomfortable wetness seeping between my thighs.

Sobbing and hyperventilating, I roll off the side of the bed and scramble helplessly towards the bathroom. Heated tears burn my cheeks as I turn the shower on, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Hot, unforgiving water bursts angrily from the shower head and I step unsteadily from my soiled underwear. I walk into the shower still wearing my sleep shirt and yelp as the scolding water burns my sensitive skin. I lift the bottom of my wet shirt and stare between my legs and cry out when blood trickles down by thighs, before it is swept away, dancing methodically with the clear, steaming water. My legs suddenly feel shaky and I can no longer hold myself up. I sink down until I am sitting on the floor of the shower, the ferocious water beats against my head and back, soaking me. I cover my face with trembling hands and scream in distress as I feel any part of sanity I regained after the rebellion wash away with my blood, down the drain, never to return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

4

I sit in the shower until the water runs cold. Eventually, I stand, my legs quiver and I wrinkle my nose at the stinging ache between my legs. I turn the shower off and the sound of the water deadens, silence invades the bathroom except for my irregular, heavy breaths. I stand in front of the mirror, like I did not only a few hours ago, and watch the water drip from my sodden shirt. Clenching my toes into the malleable rug beneath my feet, I feel hollow and worthless.

I take off my soaked shirt letting it drop to the floor and grab the same towel I used before, which was still damp. I wrap it around my shoulders exactly how my father would have done after we went swimming in the pond, in the woods. A sudden urge to run came upon me. I need to get out. With renewed purpose, I walk towards the bathroom door and hesitantly turn the knob. I peer through the crack in the door; Gale is passed out on the bed, breathing deeply. Bravely, I walk into the room. I gaze at Gale's calm sleeping face. He is the same boy that helped me all those years ago, who, I thought, cared deeply for me; how could he have done this? I bite my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. I notice the room smells strongly of alcohol, sweat and the unfamiliar stench of sex. I wretch, but my stomach must be empty, like every other part of me.

A few minutes later, I am dressed in my hunting clothes and my father's jacket. I zip up my boots and stand, Gale remains unconscious on the bed. I run down the stairs wincing at the painful reminder between my legs. I open the door and stand on the front porch, staring out to the Victor's Village. It is still dark but the rain has stopped, leaving a fresh chill in the air which gently caresses my face. I start to run. I don't know where I am running to, but my instincts direct me towards the woods.

Despite my burning muscles, I continue to run. The controlled, uninterrupted sound of my feet thudding on the ground and the wind rushing past my ears is familiar and reassuring. Unfortunately, the woods only make me think of Gale. I decide to go to the pond, where my father taught me to swim. I slow my pace the nearer I get to the pond, until I come to a complete stop. I don't know what time it is, it is still dark, but the light from the moon shines brightly even through the dense trees. The light skims across the pond and I close my eyes imagining my father holding me in the water, I trusted him implicitly, but now, who can I trust?

I take off my father's jacket and walk towards the edge of the pond, except I don't stop. I continue to walk into the water until I am in the deepest part and crouch down so the water touches my chin. I close my eyes, savoring the feel of the cool water soothing my aching muscles. I see myself as a little girl, my father smiling before me and lifting me up and throwing me into the air, before I come splashing down into the water. As I imagine this I sink further. Holding my breath, the water laps over me until I am fully submerged. The pond water feels like strong arms holding me, securing me, protecting me. My lungs quickly run out of oxygen but I don't want to leave the security of the water. I know I will die, but I don't care. There is nothing left here for me; no reason to live.

Pain rushes through my lungs and my body automatically begins to flail and I gulp in a large amount of water. I force myself to stay under. I have failed at everything; I was not going to fail at this. I think of all the people in my life, everyone I have cared about and lost, through either death or unforgivable acts. Then Peeta rushes to the forefront of my mind, the gold locket, his kiss in the arena during the Quarter Quell, his words that if I die, he will have nothing to live for. I feel like an electrical pulse has been sent straight to my heart and, without thinking twice, I swoop above the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering.

I swim towards the edge of the pond and crawl along the bank and I notice dawn is approaching. As I crawl along the soft soiled ground, something yellow catches my eye. My heart jolts in surprise. What lay before me was a small, single dandelion. I reach out a trembling hand to touch the yellow-headed flower. I feel intense emotion build up inside me and I lean over on my hands and knees and sob. Peeta, the boy with the bread. The dandelion, the flower that seems to appear whenever I am at my most vulnerable. With all my will-power and strength I stand and stumble over to my father's jacket. I put it on over my sodden clothes, turn towards the dandelion, and carefully pluck it. I trace the soft petals against my cheek, thinking about the time Peeta gave me the bread, saving my life, and ultimately saving Prim's. I never did thank him for what he did. If I am going to end my life, I need to do one last thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

5

I don't want to see Peeta as I don't need any doubts to change my decision to end my life, I only want to thank him, that's it. I gently clutch the dandelion as I briskly walk back to the Victor's Village. The sun is steadily rising as I reach the front door to my house and I cautiously enter, hoping that Gale is still asleep. Everything is quiet so I walk into the kitchen and spot the note Peeta sent with the bread buns the day before. I take the note, find a pen and begin to write on the back of it.

_Dearest Peeta,_

_Thank you for the bread. You have helped me more than you will ever know. I will always care for you deeply. _

_Love,_

_Katniss_

I am not sure what else to write, so I roll the note around the stem of the dandelion and make my way to Peeta's house. I stare up at the large Victor's house, which looks identical to mine. The sun has still not fully risen and I can hear birds chattering passionately, welcoming the new day. I place the dandelion on the doormat with the note still loosely rolled around the stem. I stand there for a minute, staring at the dandelion, panic rising in my chest about what I am about to do. I nearly succeeded before, why am I feeling unsure now? I shake my head and take a deep breath replaying recent events in my head. My skin crawls and my stomach turns. How could Gale take my virginity like it meant nothing? The decision to take my life was renewed, however, out of the corner of my eye I notice that the downstairs light from inside Peeta's house was on. Curiously, I walk over to the window and can just about look through if I stand on my tiptoes. Unexpectedly, Peeta is there, standing in front of what appears to be an easel. He does not see me. However, my heart squeezes when I see him, his face deep in thought. I smile when I see that his tongue is sticking out in concentration. I watch how he delicately strokes the paint brush back and forth across the canvas and I can't help but wonder what he is painting.

Peeta suddenly turns and looks right at me through the window. My eyes widen and my breathing becomes strained. A beautiful smile crosses Peeta's face as he looks at me through the window, but it fades into a frown. Is he having a hi-jacking episode? I notice Peeta stalking out of the room and I panic, so I run. I don't want to face Peeta. What if he hurts me, too? I don't think I could handle that, I don't want to put him in that position again.

Feeling lightheaded and exhausted, I stop to catch my breath, relieved that Peeta didn't follow, but my skin tingles when I hear his distant shouts, "Katniss! Katniss, wait!"

"No," I breath, as I turn to see him, far away, but slowly approaching, his prosthetic leg slowing him down considerably. I don't want him to see me like this. What if he tries to hurt me? I feel tears spring to my eyes and I turn and keep running. After a few minutes, I begin to feel a burning in my stomach and my run becomes a stumbling jog. I start to feel dizzy and I feel frustrated that I can't keep going. As I approach a clearing, I trip, lurching forward and I feel the skin on my knees and hands graze against the ground. I try to stand, but I have no strength and fall repeatedly, dizziness and exhaustion over coming me. Slumped on the ground, I hear Peeta approaching and my weary mind and body resigns to whatever is going to happen.

I feel Peeta's presence behind me and hear him catching his breath. I don't look at him as I sit up, knees bent and my head lowered. "Katniss, why are you running from me?" The sound of his voice forces a shuddering groan from inside me. I have not heard his voice for so long, I hear him shuffle closer to me. "What has happened to you?" Peeta's voice is soft and full of concern; he bends to crouch next to me. All I can think about is how tired and confused I am feeling. Peeta gentle touches my shoulder and I shrug away in shock. The last person that touched me hurt me a lot; I don't want to be hurt again. Peeta moves so he is crouching in front of me. "Katniss, can you tell me what's happened? Where is Gale?" The sound of his name makes me whimper and a hear someone humming the Valley Song. I think how strange that is and then I notice that it is me humming and I didn't even realise.

I stop myself from humming and there is a long silence. It is so quiet I think Peeta has left. I glance up and Peeta is sitting with his legs crossed in front of me, looking at me, his bright blue eyes filled with worry and apprehension. "Where did you get the bruises?" he asks worriedly, pointing towards my mouth. I reach to touch my face, around my mouth, and I flinch from the pain. I run my finger across my lips, which are chapped and sore. Peeta is still staring at me, but I don't know what to say. I tremble and I feel silent fresh tears slip down my face. Peeta moves closer and I look at him warily. He doesn't seem to be having a hi-jacking episode. He, definitely, doesn't seem to want to hurt me, like everyone said he would.

I glance down at something in his hand; it is the dandelion, with my note still wrapped around the stem. Peeta's gaze follows mine to the note and the dandelion, he smiles, "Did you deliberately make me chase you to a meadow full of dandelions?" I feel confused and watch Peeta look around us hinting at me to look too. My breath hitches as I caste my eyes over the meadow. The sun has risen and the light is shining upon a sea of dandelions, whipping their heads vigorously with the fresh morning breeze. Peeta moves next to me and cautiously places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb tenderly on the top of my arm. I don't seem to automatically flinch away this time, in comparison, I suddenly feel completely overwhelmed, needing comfort, needing Peeta. I kneel, reaching out to Peeta. Without hesitation, Peeta pulls me to him, my arms wrapping around his neck. He encircles his arms around my waist and lifts me into this lap cradling me. I moan in pain and utter exhaustion and close my eyes savoring the familiar smell of Peeta.

"You're alright now, I've got you," Peeta sighs.

"Help me," I groan, my voice rough with emotion, feeling so relieved to be in Peeta's strong arms. A few moments later, I lean back to look at him, he looks sad. "How come your clothes are so damp?" Peeta questions further. I shake my head and bury my face into the crook of his neck. I let fatigue consume me and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of Peeta's hand rubbing my back softly. I hear the Valley Song being hummed again, but this time it was Peeta. I lick my sore lips and let myself sail away, in Peeta's embrace, on a sea of dandelions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**6**

I slowly pry open my heavy eyelids, my head is pounding and there is a burning between my thighs. A dim light filters through the thin curtains. I have no idea where I am, the room is similar to the one I share with Gale. My heart sinks, but the smell is different and the bed covers...I don't recognise them. I slowly sit up, groaning at the aches and pains searing through my body. Something yellow catches my attention from the bedside table, a small glass vase containing a beautiful posy of dandelions. I gasp as I realize that I am probably in Peeta's house, in his bed! How did I get here? Peeta must have carried me all that way. I suddenly feel extremely guilty.

I sit up further and the bed covers roll off me. I am wearing a simple white t-shirt. What? I forcefully fling the cover off to reveal my bare legs. I pull the t-shirt up to check my underwear. What is going on? I smooth my hand over my white underwear and slowly move it towards where the burning is. I feel so sore and I notice bruises around the tops of my thighs. I trace them with my index finger, pressing to see how much they hurt. I flinch a few times and stop, glancing toward the mirror across the room. I see a sad dark haired girl with a messy braid, pale and bruised, staring back. I am shocked to realise it is me. I crawl to the end of the bed and sit cross-legged on the floor next to the mirror, staring in to my hollow grey eyes. Can one night really change someone so dramatically? I stare in shock at the yellowing bruises that pepper the skin around my mouth and remember Gale's large hand forcing my head into the pillow. I shake my head; I don't want to think about that.

I hear soft footsteps ascending the stairs and I can't help but remember being awoken by Gale's before the unthinkable happened. Will this memory plague me like this forever? I hastily get up and crawl back into the bed and cover myself as the door opens fully to reveal a pair of bright blue eyes and messy blonde hair. Peeta smiles gratefully and walks in.

"How are you feeling?" Peeta asks sweetly.

"A bit sore and stiff," I croak, my voice is still hoarse.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up, you have been sleeping so much, I had to literally beg you to take even a sip of water," Peeta says.

"I don't remember that...how long have I been sleeping for?" I ask, my voice is husky and I realize my throat is very sore.

"About a day and a half, and you still have not eaten, you must be starving!" Peeta exclaims, sitting on the side of the bed. I recognize he is wearing a white t-shirt too. He notices that I look at his t-shirt then mine. He rubs the back of his head anxiously.

"I had to your change clothes, what you were wearing was really damp and smelt like pond weed. Greasy Sae helped..." Peeta looks at me embarrassed.

"It's okay," I said, "I am just a little confused, so much has happened and..." Peeta cuts me off.

"I have tried to contact Gale but Haymitch said that he had to go to some important meeting in District 2. He left yesterday morning..." he stopped talking as my stomach grumbled loudly. Peeta's lips form into a knowing smile as I wrinkle my nose in embarrassment. "Let's get you some food and then we can discuss all this." I nod in agreement. I slip out of the bed and feel my cheeks redden as, although the t-shirt is large on me, it still shows a lot of my bruised legs. Peeta smiles reassuringly and walks over to a chest of draws, pulling out large grey sweat pants. He throws them to me and I catch them, "see you downstairs, I have tried to make that lamb stew you like," Peeta grins proudly as he walks out the room. I put on the sweat pants, not caring that they are too big as my mind is preoccupied with the fact that Gale has left. He just left and didn't even see if I was alright. Why would he after what he did? I guess the rebellion has changed us all.

I walk to the kitchen, knowing my way as Peeta's house is almost an exact replica of mine. I see him sitting at the table, two places set, with steaming bowls of lamb stew. I sit whilst Peeta looks at me strangely. I ignore it and eat the stew ravenously, surprising myself with my appetite.

"That was delicious, Peeta," I praise him and he blushes. My throat is still sore and I sneeze a couple of times whilst Peeta clears the table. "Bless you," he says, "I think you have a bit of a cold after all that gallivanting around in soaking wet clothes." He walks up to me, and moves his palm towards my face; I suddenly remember how Gale's hand moved to cover my mouth during the unthinkable and I flinch away from Peeta, incidentally banging my head on the wall behind me.

"Ouch," I grumble, rubbing the back of my head, I glance up at Peeta, who looks very concerned, but he does not push it further.

"I was just checking to see if you had a temperature...can I?" he asks. I feel silly, and I nod moving my head towards his out stretched hand. He places his cool hand on my forehead and it feels so nice I close my eyes and sigh. He withdraws his hand, "you feel warm, but you should be okay." He smiles at me and I know I don't return the same sentiment. His face falls and he suddenly becomes very serious and I know here comes the part I have been dreading. I fidget apprehensively in my seat.

"Did someone hurt you, Katniss?" Peeta asks pointedly. I wasn't sure whether I should tell the truth or not. A million different scenarios pop into my head as Peeta's piercing blue eyes searches my face for answers. I begin to tremble and I suddenly feel intensely nervous and humiliated. I am stronger than this; however, no words come out of my mouth, I nod reluctantly. Peeta sighs, rubbing his forehead with his hand. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest. This was the longest time I had spoken to Peeta since the hi-jacking, this is not what I thought our first conversation would be about.

"Do you know who it was?" Peeta questions, I nod in reply. As Peeta asks, "Who?" I say, "Gale," almost simultaneously. "GALE?" Peeta shouts in disbelief. His outburst makes me jump. "Yes, Gale," I reply, my jaw tenses. Peeta appears confused, but by the shifting look on his face he seems to be putting two and two together over Gale's sudden disappearance to District 2. I start to feel angry. Angry at Gale, angry at Peeta for being so damned surprised, even angry at myself for being so pathetic. I stand up and walk towards the kitchen counter, moving my eyes across the empty crockery and glass bowls Peeta had used to make the stew.

"What did he do to you?" Peeta whispers. I turn and look at him incredulously. I somehow think Peeta should know; he must have seen the bruises on my legs. I turn so my back is facing him and I clutch the edge of the kitchen counter to stop my hands from trembling. I take a deep breath, "he...he," I stutter and I try mercilessly to hold back any tears. I take a step back and lean down, still holding onto the edge of the counter top, bracing myself. I take a deep breath. Using oxygen as a source of courage, I stand and turn towards Peeta. I look at him straight in the eyes and yell hoarsely, "HE RAPED ME! GALE RAPED ME!" Unadulterated indignation runs through my veins as I turn and forcefully swipe all the crockery and glass bowls from the counter onto the floor, my head thumps and I feel nauseous; I sink to the floor, surrounded by broken glass and shattered white porcelain.

I don't notice Peeta's reaction, but all of a sudden I am being lifted from the ground and seated gently on one of the wooden chairs. I feel so humiliated, so enraged and so full from the lamb stew that I want to be sick. I lean over and bury my face in my hands and smell the accustomed metallic stench of blood. I must have cut my hand on the broken glass. I hear Peeta moving around the kitchen; the warm red fluid begins to trickle down my left wrist.

"Give me your hand," Peeta mummers. I turn my head away from him, closing my eyes. He gently reaches for my trembling hand, revealing the small cut on my palm. Peeta wipes the blood from my wrist up to my hand with a damp cloth. The smell of antiseptic is strong and I whimper as Peeta rubs something on my hand before tenderly placing a band aid on my cut. I look up when I feel Peeta's soft lips on my fingers, near the palm of my hand. Regret permeates my whole being as I glance at Peeta's blotchy red, tear-stained face and I notice the sorrow in his eyes.

"I am so sorry, Katniss. I am so sorry I was not there to protect you," Peeta brushes the tears from my face and caresses my bruised cheek with the back of his hand, my heart breaks for the millionth time. I didn't realise I had any heart left to break.


	7. Chapter 7

******Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**7**

"I thought you were safe with him, I thought he would look after you!" Peeta continues to complain loudly in disbelief. "I'll kill him; if I ever see that bastard again, I will fucking wring his neck." I watch Peeta stride back and forth across the kitchen, his fists clenched; his earlier feelings of regret have turned into anger. He stops abruptly and turns to look at me, distress pervading his kind features. I cross my arms tightly over my chest.

"Did he use protection?"

I groan inwardly, I hadn't thought about that at all. "I don't know," I answer truthfully.

"Shit" Peeta grumbles. We both turn our heads towards the front door as the doorbell chimes, "Greasy Sae..." Peeta exclaims. I just nod as he walks out of the kitchen. Seconds later, I hear Greasy Sae's voice.

"How is she? Is she up?" Fast footsteps approach and suddenly Greasy Sae is pulling me from the chair and hugging me. I stand awkwardly in her embrace. She holds me at arm's length, taking a good look at me. "We were so worried, Katniss. Goodness, Peeta found you in such a state and then with Gale just taking off like that..." I stare blankly, wishing she would stop touching me. She lets go and turns towards the mess I made on the kitchen floor.

"I dropped some things whilst I was cooking," Peeta lies. Greasy Sae clicks her tongue and shakes her head.

"How have you been, Peeta? Any episodes?" she questions, sceptically.

"No, none, it's been nearly two weeks," Peeta replies.

"Well, l still think it is not a good idea for Katniss to stay with you. Gale wouldn't approve; look how distraught she is just by him leaving. She would not be able to cope with you having one of your episodes. You could seriously harm her, Peeta," Greasy Sae states, her hands resting on her hips.

I look at her in astonishment. After everything that has happened, I am stunned at Greasy Sae's rationalization of the situation. She thought I was like this because Gale left!

Peeta scoffs sardonically, "Sae, I have spent months recovering and I have been with Katniss for the last few hours and I am fine. I can control myself. I could never hurt her."

I feel like they are talking about a child, like I am not even there. How dare they make decisions for me! I stand abruptly, they turn , both with the same look of pity etched across their faces, although for completely different reasons.

"You alright?" Peeta asks, moving towards me.

"I don't need either of you; I am fine by myself!" I exclaim, my throat still rough like sandpaper. My voice is distorted by my blocked nose, making me sound somewhat comical.

"Katniss," Peeta pleads.

I am not weak like they think I am. I stride out of the kitchen and up the stairs to retrieve my clothes and boots, whilst Peeta follows.

"You should not be alone, especially after what has happened. I know you find it hard to trust me after the hi-jacking, but I can control it. Please, let me take care of you." Peeta asserts from behind me.

I find my clothes, clean and folded neatly, on top of the chest of drawers in the bedroom. I yank down the sweat pants I am wearing and Peeta turns his gaze, his checks reddening. I quickly put on my pants, but I leave the t-shirt on and sit on the floor to put on my boots. Peeta stands there hesitantly. "Katniss," he begs, as I put on my father's hunting jacket.

"Peeta, I am fed up with people telling me what is good and not good for me. I want to be alone," I stand face to face with him. He looks deep into my eyes and I nearly give in. He nods unwillingly and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"If it ever gets too much, you know I will always be here for you," Peeta's voice is deep with emotion. I nod in reply before stepping aside and walking past. He doesn't follow me as I jog down the stairs.

"I think it is a good idea you stay away, Katniss," Greasy Sae says from behind me as I turn the brass knob on the front door. I don't acknowledge her as I step outside, taking a deep breath, before heading home.

I walk steadily, the cool spring air softly tickling my cheeks and whipping strands of hair across my face. I reach the house and it is eerily quiet as I walk up to the bedroom. I realize, despite my clean clothes, I am actually incredibly dirty. I enter the bedroom; I am taken aback by memories from the previous night. The room was exactly how I left it, except Gale is not longer lying upon the soiled sheets. Angrily I tear the bed covers off and feel apprehensive upon seeing my dried blood stains marbled across the white sheets.

I throw the grubby sheets into the laundry basket and turn the shower on. I close my eyes under the warm cascading water and try to not think or feel, as I know that will be my undoing. I must stay strong. Once washed and in clean clothes I feel a little better. I go to the kitchen to drink some water. I then put clean covers on the bed. For a while, I stare at the empty closet where Gale used to keep his clothes. I put some of my clothes in there, pretending that he never lived here in the first place. The sun has set and I gaze distractedly out of the window, watching the evening primrose wave gently in the darkness.

With nothing left to do, except for wallow in misery, I try to sleep. I lie in the same bed, where I was raped, staring up at the ceiling and gazing at the familiar light of the moon stabbing its way through the gap in the curtains. I toss and turn, battling a myriad of horrific thoughts and memories. After what feels like hours, I throw the covers off me and jump out of the bed. I need an escape and I know just where to find one.


	8. Chapter 8

******Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**8**

I knock loudly on the large front door. "Who is it?" A gruff voice bellows.

"It's Katniss!" I yell back. Leaning in closer I hear grumbling and a rattling of keys, the door opens revealing a very rough looking Haymitch, a drunken grin creeps across his unshaven face.

"Long time no see, Sweetheart. What can I help you with at this late hour?"

"I want a drink, Haymitch," I blurt without pretense. His eyebrows rise in curiosity.

"You have come to the right place," Haymitch stands aside permitting me to enter.

I hesitantly walk through to the kitchen, instantly noticing an unlabelled glass bottle containing clear liquid, alongside it, stood an empty glass. I grab the bottle and attempt to smell the liquid but my nose is so blocked from my cold that I just make a strained, sniffling noise.

"Do you feel as bad as you look?" Haymitch looks at me up and down as he enters the kitchen.

"You have no idea," I reply, rolling my eyes. We glare at each other and then I take a brave swig from the bottle recoiling from the taste and burning sensation which attacks my already sore throat. I offer the bottle to Haymitch, he shakes his head.

"No thanks, Sweetheart. You sound diseased, don't want to risk catching anything," he smirks as I take another large gulp of the strong liquid.

A few shared bottles of liquor later, we are both sitting in the main living area on the firm, cushion covered couch. I lean back enjoying the floating feeling in my legs and the dulling of the pain in my heart. Haymitch's eyes are closed and he holds his own bottle, balancing it on his knee. "Missing Gale?" Haymitch questions, I take another long gulp of alcohol, and another, and another. "Woah, Katniss, take it easy," Haymitch smirks, now glancing at me. "Heard you went AWOL the other night. Saw Peeta stumbling back with you. What's going on?"

"Like you care, Haymitch," I retort.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs in reply.

The liquor is making my mind feel hazy and my stomach churns. Despite this, I drink until I have finished another bottle, slamming it down on the coffee table in front of me. Haymitch opens one eye, looking at me suspiciously.

"The boy is worried about you," Haymitch gripes.

"Who, Gale?" I ask incredulously. My voice is still thick with cold and slurs from intoxication.

"No... Peeta, he spoke to me earlier" he replies.

"What did he say to you?"

"Oh, I can't remember, something about innocence and trust and..."

The words innocence and trust swim thickly through my mind, and before I can stop myself I divulge inadvertently, "He told you Gale raped me?"

"What?" Haymitch sits up shocked, suddenly appearing more sober.

I quickly stand, embarrassed, I didn't intend to blurt that out. I stumble drunkenly to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of liquor, unscrewing it and drinking deeply.

Haymitch is in the kitchen instantly. "Peeta didn't say anything about that! Is that why Gale went to District 2?" Of course Peeta didn't say anything; he has always been so trustworthy.

I nod, licking the essence of alcohol from my lips. I feel like the whole world is turning but I am standing still, although, without warning I begin to feel unsteady on my feet. The force of gravity seems to be pushing down on my brain and I lean over, my stomach heaving. Haymitch moves to hold me up, but my drunken limbs push me further to the floor. The world spins and becomes blurry; then everything goes black.

I wake up to the sound of chattering birds and the light permeating through the white curtains sends a pounding pain from my eyes to my head. Where am I now? Why do I keep waking up like this? I try to move, but my stomach lurches and I automatically hold my hand to my mouth, thinking I might be sick. The bed covers are soft against my bare feet and I slide them up and down, leaning back taking a deep breath. I begin to realize where I am, the familiar smell of my surroundings makes me groan. I am back at Peeta's, back in Peeta's bed, why does this keep happening? I try to remember the previous night and all that comes to mind is drinking with Haymitch, but from that, I cannot remember any intricate details.

I sit up and feel the sickness become too much. Scuttling out of the bed, I move quickly to the bathroom covering my mouth with my hand. I flip open the lid of the toilet and lean over before purging. I stop to take a deep breath, but my stomach continues to push the poison out my mouth, acid burns my throat. I tense when I feel strong hands move the hair out of my face, holding it out the way as I continue to vomit. "It's okay," Peeta's voice soothes, I groan when his other hand rubs up and down the tense muscles in my back.

When I have emptied my stomach, I can't help but whimper from humiliation, I can't look at Peeta; I am so embarrassed. He is still rubbing my back and it feels so good I don't want him to stop. Unfortunately, Peeta suddenly moves from me and I here water running from the tap, I sit back, my hands rubbing my sore head. "Drink this," Peeta hands me a glass of water, which I tentatively sip. He then takes the glass from me, "stand up, I will take you back to the bed," he offers his hand, which I take. He helps me stand and I realize I am still in the same clothes as yesterday. I don't let go of this hand as we walk towards the bed. Resigning, I lie down and Peeta covers me with the bed sheets. I watch him as he walks back into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a damp folded cloth. He places it on my forehead. "You still have a temperature," he states, sitting down on the bed next to me.

"What happened last night?" I ask. My eyelids start to feel heavy. Peeta's mouth forms into a small smile, "Haymitch called, said you had passed out on his kitchen floor."

"Oh god," I grumble, moving my hand to hold onto the damp cloth, the memory of last nights binge slowly returning.

"He sounded really upset," Peeta says. I scoff disbelievingly. "He said you told him about Gale." Oh yeah, I remember that.

"That was a mistake; I just kind of blurted it out."

"That's what happens when you drink too much," he replies.

"Alright, Peeta, thanks for rubbing it in."

"Sorry," Peeta whispers, the small smile fades from his lips.

"It's okay," I try and smile but I feel so drained that I just close my eyes. Peeta removes the now warm compress from my forehead and my heart aches.

"Take a nap," he stays moving from the bed towards the door.

"Peeta?" I stop him.

"Yeah?" he replies, turning towards me.

"I think I do need you," I say in a small voice.

Peeta sighs in what I think is relief, "You have me, Katniss." I smile the first genuine smile I have had in months. Peeta grins back, "Now rest, I will wake you when food is ready." I nod and close my eyes, quickly falling into a deep sleep dreaming about bread and dandelions.

*I would just like to thank the readers who are following and for the wonderful reviews. This is my first fanfiction and the encouragement has been overwhelming. Thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

**********Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**9**

After eating, I watch Peeta clear the dishes. Gale never did that, Peeta is the polar opposite of Gale. Gale is fire and destruction and Peeta is a calm refreshing stream. I stand beside Peeta and take the dish cloth on the counter and begin to dry the dishes he had just washed. "Thanks for the help," Peeta beams at me. I return a small smile to him and he passes me another dish, his wet, soapy fingers brush against mine, and I feel something stir within me. "You have some color in your cheeks, you feeling better?" Peeta questions. I do feel a little better, but completely fed up with thinking and talking about this whole situation and I tell Peeta so.

"Can we talk about something else?" I sigh.

"Yeah, sure, erm...the last few weeks I have been rebuilding the bakery."

"Oh," I reply in surprise. I wasn't expecting that. Apart from recovering from his hi-jacking, planting evening primroses and baking bread for me, I hadn't thought about what Peeta had been doing the last few months since he returned.

"The whole of District 12 is being rebuilt, Katniss. I thought it would be a good idea, since my father loved that bakery, and in the future, I guess, it would be a good investment," he passes me a couple of forks to dry.

"Is anyone helping you?" I ask, wiping the suds from the forks and placing them in the cutlery draw.

"Oh yeah, I few families have offered to help if I bake them fresh bread in return. They also see it as I good investment for the District," Peeta replies. I nod feeling inadequate, since returning all I have down is mope around and Peeta has actually been doing something productive.

"When you feel up to it, maybe you could come can help out?" Peeta turns off the tap and dries his hands on the dish cloth I am holding. He takes the cloth from me, hanging it on the edge of the counter to dry.

"I would like that."

"Great! Katniss, I can't wait for you to see it. I wanted to wait until it was finished, but since you are here now..." Peeta has a huge smile on his face, which is completely infectious as I feel my lips grinning in response.

We move to the living area, sipping warm tea and I notice the canvas Peeta had been painting on the night I was raped, a white sheet covers it. I remember wrongly thinking that Peeta was having a hi-jacking episode and I wonder why Greasy Sae is so concerned about me staying with Peeta.

"Why is Greasy Sae so adamant that I not stay with you? You said you had not had an episode in two weeks."

"She just worries about you, Katniss. When I returned she had to lock me up a few times because my episodes were so bad. We all decided that it best if I stayed away from you," by saying "we all" I knew Peeta was talking about Gale as well. I roll my eyes.

"It was the best decision at the time," Peeta continues. "I am much better at determining what is real and what is not real, Aurelius helped a lot," my eyebrows rise at the psychiatrist's name, the same one who is trying to help me. Peeta becomes serious, "I am not going to pretend to you, Katniss. I cannot guarantee that I will not have another episode, but what I can promise you is that I will never, ever hurt you," he stares at me deadpan.

"I know, Peeta. I trust you," I look straight into his blue eyes.

"Thank you, I know it must be hard..." Peeta trails off. I feel drained from all this new information and I notice the large clock on the wall says 9.00pm. I have only been up for a few hours, but the delicious food and warm tea has made me sleepy.

"I think I need to sleep some more," I mutter.

"Sounds like a good idea, take the main bed you where in before."

"Where have you been sleeping?"

"In one of the spare bedrooms. Don't worry, Katniss, I'll be fine," he smirks at the concerned look on my face. Once in bed, knowing Peeta is only downstairs helps me fall asleep quickly.

I am gripping on for dear life; I try not to look down at the long drop below me. I shout for Peeta, who is instantly pulling me up from the edge of the rocky cliff. I fall into his arms sobbing, my skin grazed and burned. He pulls away and kisses my forehead...my tear-stained cheeks...and then my lips. I kiss him back longingly. I whimper when he pulls away. I open my eyes and gasp when Gale is standing before me, smirking. "I still can't resist you," he growls before pushing me to the ground, his hand covering my mouth. I scream for Peeta, but my voice is muffled. I continue shouting Peeta's name as Gale rapes me..."KATNISS!" I hear Peeta's voice in the distance. He is here but I cannot see him. "KATNISS!" I am suddenly jolted back into reality. I am breathing vigorously; I stare up in to Peeta's wide, blue eyes which are filled with alarm.

"You're having a nightmare," I sit up looking worriedly around the dark room. "You called out my name," Peeta informs me. The nightmare felt so real, I begin to cry with relief. Peeta puts his hand on top of my own, which is resting on the covers. He gently strokes my skin and I feel myself shaking beneath him. I look up at Peeta and I get a strange feeling in my stomach. His warm eyes, his messy ashy blonde hair, I don't want him to leave me, I need him.

"Stay with me, Peeta," I beg, my voice wobbly with emotion.

"I...I..." Peeta stutters warily.

"Please, Peeta, I trust you," I move across the bed, pulling the covers open, silently inviting him in. He stares at me in the darkness and I realize he is only wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. He nods and slips into the bed and lies on his back. I lie back next to him, my heart still pounding. Despite Peeta lying next to me, I still feel panicked. I move closer to him resting my head on his chest, I can hear his heart beating wildly. I nuzzle my nose into his t-shirt, which smells like Peeta and the faint smell of sweat, I moan at the manly smell and his arms wrap around me. I remember how he used to hold me after my nightmares during the Victory Tour. Peeta rubs his hands across my back before pulling me closer. I feel safe in his arms, and my breathing evens out. Before I drift back to sleep Peeta whispers breathlessly, "I missed you so much."

Ever since that night, Peeta and I sleep in the same bed, the nightmares never reappear when he is with me. I spend the first few days moving my clothes and belongings from my old Victor's house to Peeta's. He makes space in the closet in his room. I ask Peeta to teach me a few recipes, so when he gets back from working on the bakery I can actually have some food ready for him. To my relief, my period starts and I thank god I didn't get pregnant from that terrible night. I keep away the terrible feelings of loss, by focusing on Peeta, by concentrating on all the good things that he is doing. A few weeks of eating well and I start to put weight on and I begin to look like my normal self, despite the scars. Peeta is my dandelion in the spring and the way he cares for me brings me hope, hope of a future.


	10. Chapter 10

**********Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**10**

May quickly approaches, the once cool spring air is warming and I almost feel like my normal self. I still have times when I feel the loss so strongly I can barely stand, but Peeta is always there to hold me, comfort me, whisper to me that there is still good in this world, and we just need to look carefully to find it. As far as I know, Peeta has not had a hi-jacking episode since I moved in, if he has, he has hidden well. Most nights, as we lie in bed, Peeta will tell me about all the people who are helping to rebuild District 12, particularly about Bancroft, Bay and Heath, the men that have been helping Peeta rebuild the bakery. Bancroft lost his wife and son during the rebellion, Bay and Heath lost their whole families; yet they still get up every day to help Peeta, to endeavour to bring life back to District 12.

"Peeta, you know I am rubbish at making friends."

Peeta smiles, "Come on, Katniss, I will be with you the whole time. I'll do most of the talking, just be your wonderful self."

"Stop with the flattery, Mellark," I groan.

Peeta smirks playfully, "Mellark, is it now?" I roll my eyes, but a smile plays on my lips.

"Fine, I'll come tomorrow. I do really want to see all the hard work you have done."

Peeta has been trying to persuade me for weeks to visit the bakery and meet his friends. However, the thought of meeting new people makes me feel extremely anxious; I have never been one to hold polite conversation with people.

"Great! They are dying to meet the one and only, Katniss Everdeen," Peeta grins and leans across me to switch off the bedside lamp. I enjoy his bare chest pressing into my side and I have to stop myself sighing from the jolts of pleasure singing through every nerve in my body. For the last few weeks, everything about Peeta makes me feel strange, like excitement and nervousness all in one. The way his hair sticks up in the morning, his laugh, his smile, his incredible blue eyes, particularly the way he kisses me on the cheek in the morning and before we go to bed at night. I have never had the chance to feel like this before. On his way back from switching off the lamp he moves the hair from my face and this time places a chaste kiss on my forehead. I am glad it is dark in the room as I know I must look like I am about to swoon. When did I get so whimsical?

I turn away from Peeta and he manoeuvres his arms around my waist tugging me into our habitual spooning position. I wiggle to get as close to him as possible and he mumbles unintelligibly before burying his face into my hair; taking in a breath and smelling me. He does this almost every night and I think it is weird, but it is Peeta, so I allow it.

"Goodnight, Katniss," he says, muffled by my long braided hair.

"Goodnight, Peeta," I reply. I groan inwardly at the husky breathlessness of my voice. Peeta does not appear to notice and, in no time at all, his breathing becomes shallow and his grip around me loosens in sleep. I lie envious at his ability to slumber and I experience a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and think that Haymitch is right, I will never deserve this boy...not a million times over.

The next morning, Peeta and I walk towards the bakery. I notice how fresh the day is, it is probably one of the bluest skies I have ever seen, dotted with only a few wispy clouds. Having only been in contact with Gale, Greasy Sae and Peeta over the last few months, I feel nervous and I clench my fists as we walk. I suddenly feel Peeta's hand reach for mine and intertwine our fingers; the same strange feeling bubbles within my stomach, looking towards him, Peeta has a reassuring smile on his face.

"You alright?" he queries.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I nod in response, my hand sweating profusely within his, giving away my nerves. We walk like this for a while, and all I can think about is Peeta's strong hand in mine.

"It's amazing how different it is," Peeta wonders aloud. He brings my attention to all the new buildings which have risen like a phoenix from the ashes. I barely recognise District 12, it still looks drab and grey, but the atmosphere is different. There is an element of excitement emanating from the people that walk by and they don't stare at me like I thought they would, except they smile and wave at Peeta. He is popular and I am even more enamoured by him.

Even though I have walked this route many times throughout my life, it feels unfamiliar. We stop outside the newly built bakery and Peeta lets go of my hand, walking up to three men who are sitting on the steps outside. They slap each other on the back, smiling and exchange greetings. Peeta turns and all eyes fall on me, he beckons me over. I take a deep breath and walk the few short steps to stand beside Peeta, he places a reassuring hand on my lower back.

"Katniss, this is Brancroft..." the older man shakes my hand. He has dark hair which is peppered grey; he has a beard and a friendly smile; I instantly like him.

"...and Bay," Bay looks slightly younger than me and Peeta. His skin is tanned and he has the same Seam grey eyes as me.

"Hi," Bay waves shyly and I return the greeting.

"...and Heath," Heath grins at me. He is young, quite skinny and tall, with blonde hair and hazel eyes.

"Katniss, we finally get to me. Peeta will not shut up about you. Only good things of course," Heath winks at me and I notice Peeta's cheeks are an unusual shade of red. I don't know what to do or say, so I just stare at Heath feeling exceptionally awkward. Peeta's hand rubs my lower back. I notice that, even though the three men are smiling, I see undeniable pain and loss in their eyes; I see the same in my own every day.

"Go show Katniss the inside, Peeta," Bancroft mutters, breaking the discomfort I had caused. I nod in agreement and I follow Peeta towards the entrance of the bakery. As soon as we are inside, my tense muscles relax.

"That was embarrassing," I grumble.

"You're so cute," Peeta laughs. I hit him playfully on the arm, I secretly like it when he says things like that, but I don't want to let on.

"I love how you get flustered," Peeta adds.

"Glad you take pleasure in my social awkwardness," I say, hitting him on the arm again.

"Ouch, why so violent?" Peeta asks light-heartedly, rubbing his arm. I tear my gaze from Peeta and I glance around the newly built entrance of the bakery. There is a counter, a cash register and glass display case, behind these are shelves with large wicker baskets resting on top.

"This looks great, Peeta," I marvel, whilst touching the cool glass on the display case.

"Come and see the kitchen," Peeta enthrals. I follow him behind the counter and through the door. I am amazed by the large ovens and tall baking racks that line the walls. I can't believe Peeta has created all this from theremains of the old bakery.

"It's amazing, Peeta," I say offering a genuine smile. "How did you afford to do this?" I question.

Peeta smiles, "generous benefactors and the help of some kind-hearted people; there still is good people out there, Katniss."

"When will it be finished?" I ask, changing the subject.

"It's finished...it's ready. I'm scared, this is such a big deal," Peeta breathes deeply and rubs the back of his head with his hand. I don't know what to say to encourage him, I find myself standing and staring into his worried, blue eyes. I feel useless; I don't know how to react to Peeta's sudden emotional revelation. So, I do what I would do when Prim was worried or scared, I walk up to Peeta and wrap my arms around his waist and rest my face in the crook of his neck. Peeta returns the hug and he sighs. We stand there for a few minutes, holding each other tightly. I pull away to gage his reaction.

"Thank you, Katniss, I needed that," Joy leaps into my heart, I feel so happy that I was able to offer Peeta comfort, like he had given me so many times.

"Sorry," a small voice comes from behind us and I turn to see Bay standing in the doorway.

Peeta and I break apart and I feel my social ineptness returning.

"Bancroft and Heath and I are going to get lunch, do you want to join us?" Bay directs his question at Peeta.

"Thanks, Bay, but I think Katniss and I will stay here. Lots of planning and preparation for the grand opening," Peeta grins.

"Sure," Bay beams excitedly. "Nice to meet you, Katniss," Bay speaks so quietly I can barely hear him.

"You, too," I reply, but Bay has already disappeared from view.

I turn back to Peeta, "So when is the grand opening?"

"As soon as possible, do you want to help?" Peeta asks.

I scoff, "Peeta, I am hunter, not a baker." Peeta looks disappointed and I realise I would do anything to keep that look of disappointment from his handsome face. "But I will give it a go, if you'll teach me?"

The smile and sparkle in his eyes return, "Of course I'll teach you, you'll love it," Peeta replies enthusiastically. I feel relieved; I want him to be happy, he deserves this, Peeta deserves happiness and I want to be the one that gives it to him.


	11. Chapter 11

**************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**11**

I sit on a stool, in the bakery kitchen, watching Peeta knead the bread dough he showed me how to prepare earlier. His tongue is penetrating from his lips with concentration. My eyes follow his strong hands as they pull, squeeze and massage the dough. I bite my bottom lip trying to focus my mind on Peeta's dough kneading technique rather than thinking of all the ways he could be using his capable hands on me. I feel embarrassed and I am thankful that no one can hear my thoughts.

"Your turn," Peeta says, passing the ball of dough to me.

Peeta moves to stand behind me; I stay seated and poorly replicate what he had tried to show me. I can barely concentrate as I feel the heat of Peeta's presence and his silent scrutiny.

A shiver of arousal slides down my spine as Peeta laughs, his hot breath cascades across the bare skin of my neck. "Were you even watching? Let me show you again." He leans over and his face is next to mine, his muscular chest pressing strongly against my back. "Watch," he breaths against me, kneading the dough again. I watch this time. "Do it again," he mummers. I do much better this time. "Good girl," he growls against my earlobe. Instead of elbowing him in the stomach, which is what I would normally do, excitement throbs through my whole body at his demeaning response. I nearly fall apart when he presses his soft lips against my naked skin revealed by my side braid and the loose neck line of my t-shirt. He pulls away, "Feel good?" he asks.

"Yes," I groan longingly. I feel his pleasured smirk press against my neck and his tongue licks and his lips suck at my heated skin. I let out a shaky moan.

"Stand up and turn around," he orders suddenly. Bewildered with lust I stand and turn so we are face to face. Peeta's eyes are electric blue and he pulls at my waist so my body is flush against his, but he doesn't kiss or touch me like I want him to.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you?" he pleads.

"Kiss me..." at my response his lips reattach themselves to my neck; I throw my head back giving him better access. His hands rub up and down my back, and then move down to tightly squeeze my behind. I unexpectedly, and loudly, moan Peeta's name.

My eyes shoot open and my chest heaves as I am pulled from my dream. I am lying in bed; the moon's light illuminating the room. I feel terribly aroused; I turn to see if Peeta is asleep, I take in a sharp breath as my eyes connect with his. He is lying beside me, leaning against his hand, a delighted grin plastered across his face. I groan and cover my face with my hands.

"That sounded like a nice dream," Peeta teases. I feel mortified and slightly annoyed.

"What are you talking about?" I say, feigning nonchalance.

Still grinning, Peeta says, "I thought you were having a nightmare at the start, with all that moaning, but the smile on your face told a different story."

"Leave me alone, Peeta," I reply whilst turning away from his irritatingly handsome smirk.

He slides up behind me, "Sorry." Despite his teasing I still feel highly turned on from my dream and having Peeta creeping up behind me on the bed is not helping. "I am just happy that you're having a nice dream and not a nightmare." He is right, my dreams usually turn into crippling nightmares; this type of dream was highly unusually. I don't reply and, after a few minutes, I hear Peeta's deep breathes, signifying that he had fallen back to asleep. I sigh and spend the rest of the night replaying my salacious dream in my mind, now needing Peeta in a completely different way.

Very early next morning I find myself at the bakery, watching Peeta and Bay prepare dough for baking. Peeta had been up late the previous night preparing cakes and pastries. He seems exhausted and I want to help as much as possible. "Your turn," Peeta says to me, my skin tingles at the familiar comment from my dream. Peeta passes me some of the bread dough and I knead it, like he and Bay are doing. "You're a natural," Peeta exclaims. I smile and he smiles back, and all I want him to do is pick me up, sit me on the counter and kiss me until my lips are sore. "We need to weigh the dough now, so each bun will be the same size," he tells me as he takes the dough from me, cuts a section off and places it on a small weighing machine. Bay is doing the same on the other side of the kitchen, he seems to know what he is doing, Peeta must have taught him too.

A couple of hours later, everything is prepared and the smell of baking bread has me salivating. Peeta has already allowed me to eat three cheese buns and I am nibbling on my fourth.

"Save some for the customers," Bay jokes, with a large smile.

"They are my favorite," I grin back.

"I can see that," he laughs.

I peer through the large window at the front of the bakery and people have already gathered outside. Peeta is suddenly beside me, pulling me into a hug. I hold on to him tightly.

"Thank you for being here," he whispers into my hair.

In response, I hold Peeta even tighter against me, he gives me a small squeeze back and then we pull apart. Bay waits nervously behind the counter, whilst Peeta moves to open the front doors. With what can only been seen as excitement Peeta glances from me to Bay, before opening the doors. Feeling overwhelmed by the influx of people, I scuttle into the hot kitchen and survey the masses of baked goods. This is going to be a long day.

I didn't realize how tiring running a bakery was going to be. Peeta being Peeta was upbeat and enthusiastic from the minute he woke up and I tried my hardest to keep up with him. By Saturday evening I was exhausted. I lay sprawled out on the couch with my eyes closed, my head resting in Peeta's lap.

"Did you know it is a special day tomorrow?" Peeta mumbles tiredly.

"We don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn?" I reply opening my eyes to look up at Peeta who is staring down at me, both his hands behind his head.

"No, guess again," he smirks.

"I hate guessing, just tell me," I groan.

"You seriously don't know? I'll give you a clue, it's May 7th today..." Peeta moves his hands, he rests one beside my head the other intimately rubs my stomach. I feel pleasure seep into my muscles and I find it hard to think straight. Suddenly, what Peeta is hinting about sends a surprised jolt through my stomach.

I sit up abruptly, turning and kneel on the couch facing Peeta, "My birthday," I say breathlessly. He nods, how does he know everything about me?

"You want to do anything special?" Peeta smiles tiredly, intertwining his fingers with my mine.

"I just want to sleep all day tomorrow," I say seriously, staring intently at our joined hands. Peeta's skin is pale against mine; I slide my gaze from our hands, up his muscular arm, meeting his eyes. Does he want me as much as I want him right now? He has been touching me so much recently, but I am not sure if he is just being friendly.

"Come on Birthday Girl, let's go to bed," Peeta yawns whilst standing, pulling me up with him.

"Not Birthday Girl yet," I roll my eyes at the endearment.

I want to kiss Peeta but I am not brave enough to do it, I think, as I un-braid my hair. I have kissed him before, loads of times before, but it has been such a long time and after everything that has happened I am not sure if he actually wants to. I brush my dark wavy hair and check myself in the mirror. I notice color in my cheeks and my face has filled out, I look healthy. Peeta is in the shower, so I take off my clothes, placing them in the laundry basket. I unhook my bra and slide the straps down my arms, before putting it on the dresser. In just my panties, I open Peeta's dresser draw and pick out one of his t-shirts to wear. I turn and shut the draw with my bare hip and hold out the t-shirt inspecting it, it is plain black and feels soft.

"Oh, sorry," I hear Peeta's voice.

I quickly pull the t-shirt down to cover my chest. I am so shocked I just stare at him, clutching his soft t-shirt against my breasts. Peeta is standing at the doorway of the bathroom, dressed in just his boxers. He doesn't look away from me. My heart feels like it is about to burst as we stare at each other from across the room. His eyes leave mine and shamelessly travel down my body and I quiver under his primal stare. His eyes flicker back to mine, "I need a t-shirt," he mutters, pointing at the t-shirt I am holding. I look at the only thing concealing my bare chest. "This t-shirt?" I ask in disbelief.

Peeta smiles, his cheeks are flushed red, "You're using that one...I think I'll grab another."

He starts to walk towards me and I move to the side so he can get to the dresser. I allow myself to appreciate his lean, muscular body and the blonde hair trailing down into his underwear. He opens the drawer and takes the nearest t-shirt and slips it over his head. Turning around I nudge the draw closed for him. I still as I feel Peeta's hand tenderly caress my bare back, "Are you putting the cream on these scars?"

"No, I...I can't reach there," I say in a breathy voice.

"Get on the bed, lie on your front...I'll put some cream on your back for you," Peeta informs me. I nod obediently (what has gotten into me?) and move towards the bed as he disappears into the bathroom. Still holding the t-shirt across my chest, I pull back the bed sheets and lie down on my front, discarding the t-shirt to the floor. I reach my arms across the pillow and rest my head on my arms. I feel anticipation pulsate within my chest, knowing Peeta will be able to see the sides of my naked breasts as they are pressed against the bed. I surprise myself when I don't feel embarrassed.

Peeta returns a few seconds later, placing the familiar healing cream next to the bed.

"You okay with me touching you like this?" Peeta asks. I turn my head and smile.

"Yes, Peeta. Remember, I trust you," I reassure him. With Gale there was always this improbable fire, this uncertainty that I might get burned, but with Peeta there is undeniable trust. He pulls the bed sheets up to cover my bottom half, leaving my back exposed. I enjoy the feeling of the soft material of the bed rubbing against my nipples as Peeta climbs next to me, reaching for the cream. I hear the smacking noise of Peeta rubbing the cream between his hands, warming it up. I audibly sigh as his firm hands begin to rub the cream into my scared skin.

"Mmmm," I groan instinctively.

Peeta sniggers, "Does that feel good?"

"Yes," I reply honestly.

Peeta begins to rub my shoulders, massaging my tired muscles. He leans up and swings his leg over my body, straddling me without putting any of his weight on me. He continues to methodically massage my entire back, up and down, stopping to loosen a knot in a muscle near my shoulder blade. I moan with abandon, enjoying Peeta's massage in more ways than one. He slows down; stroking my back and gently rubbing my skin, his hand grazes the side of my breast and I imagine him going further, cupping my breasts and massaging them like he does so skilfully to the bread dough at the bakery.

Peeta moves off and lies beside me, still running his hand up and down my bare back. I turn my head to look at him and I feel how heavy my eyelids are. Peeta smiles contently at me.

"You're so beautiful," Peeta says. My heart jumps at his compliment and happiness blossoms in my chest.

"Thank you," I whimper back, closing my eyes involuntarily. I continue to enjoy Peeta's ministrations and his undivided attention, I feel myself falling into a restful sleep.

I am awoken by Peeta pulling me closer into our regulatory nightly spooning position. He is fast asleep reeling me in and I realize that I am completely naked except for my underwear. Oh the feel of Peeta's strong arms around my bare waist, my breasts rest against his arm. I am amazed when I don't want to cover myself or put on clothes, I feel whorish enjoying my nudity. I turn in Peeta's arms pressing my chest against his; his arms unconsciously readjust around my waist and I throw one of my legs over his hip pulling myself closer still. I watch Peeta sleep, memorizing every faded scar, running my fingers across his lips, I consider kissing him. Peeta stirs, without opening his eyes one of his hands moves from my waist and touches my leg which is flung over his hip.

"You okay?" he grumbles sleepily, rubbing his hand up my thigh. Oh god, I don't even think he is properly awake.

"Yeah, you?" my voice is husky with sleep. He mumbles something unintelligibly.

"Love being with you...smell so good...feel so good..." my heart stops at his sleepy revelations. He is suddenly asleep again. I feel a huge smile creep on to my face; tomorrow I will kiss Peeta, I decide. I snuggle into him and close my eyes letting myself drift back into a contented slumber.


	12. Chapter 12

******************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**12**

I wake up and turn to find Peeta, but I am in the bed alone. I smile and wonder what Peeta must have thought about my nudity when he woke up this morning. I lean over, reaching beside the bed to find Peeta's t-shirt I discarded last night. I put it on, smoothing it over myself and consider whether I should put on some pants. I can tell the sun is shining outside and I decide I will go down in just the t-shirt and my underwear; I hope I might get a few looks from Peeta. I am enjoying him staring at me the way he does, in that hungry way.

As I walk down stairs, I smell baking; does this guy ever stop? I step into the kitchen and notice Peeta is working on something, his back faces me and I can tell he is concentrating intensely. He is wearing blue jeans and a blue t-shirt; I like that t-shirt because its so tight. I imagine myself walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I shake my head and wonder when the hell I became so depraved that all I can think about is Peeta's body and ways I can touch him.

"Hey," I say in a rather chirpy voice. Peeta turns quickly and I feel a sense of accomplishment as his eyes rake up my bare legs and stop briefly to stare at my breasts, which are covered only by his t-shirt. I push my chest out slightly, noticing my nipples have hardened due to the cool breeze coming from the open kitchen window. Peeta looks hungry and not for food.

"Why are you up so early? I was hoping we'd lie in bed together a little longer," I don't recognize the nagging girly words that come from my own lips. I realize Peeta is concealing whatever he was doing behind his back. He is looking into my eyes now, smirking.

"I had to get up to take a very cold shower. I'm doing something, so could you go away for about 10 minutes," he says impatiently. I feel annoyed by the tone of his voice, so I shrug and turn quickly on my heel, stomp into the hall and sit on the bottom of the stairs. Who the hell takes a god damn cold shower anyway? Why would I even need to know the temperature of his shower? Didn't he take a shower last night? I feel so annoyed by the way Peeta rebuffed me and I suddenly realize how childish I am being, but I can't help it. I am so used to Peeta's full and loving attention; I am shocked by him telling me to go away. I sit for a little longer and soon feel goose pimples creeping up my arms, so I stand to go and put on some clothes. Before I do, as I am brushing my teeth, I hear Peeta's voice calling my name.

"What?" I shout back rather rudely.

"It's ready, come down...now!" Peeta yells back.

I rinse my mouth and unceremoniously trudge down the stairs. Still in only the t-shirt and my underwear, I breeze into the kitchen.

"What's ready?" I grumble.

Peeta is standing behind the table, beaming and grinning like a little boy. He looks so carefree and so handsome that I nearly have to fan myself, and I do mentally. He gestures towards something on the table and I look and gasp in surprise, any annoyance and childishness forgotten.

"What do you think?" Peeta asks, suddenly looking a little nervous. I follow his gaze to where it rests on the table. I hold my breath as I see the small cake on the table. It is covered with white marzipan and beautifully decorated with small yellow marzipan dandelions. In the middle of the cake, written in Peeta's perfect loopy cake writing, is 'Happy Birthday, Katniss'. I am lost for words.

"It's chocolate, I know you like chocolate. It took me ages to get enough for the cake..." Peeta trails off. I move to the edge of the table to get a closer look, I can't actually remember the last time I had a cake for my birthday. Peeta continues to babble, filling the silence.

"I made the dandelions from marzipan, they took ages and are really fiddly; that's why I was really irritable when you walked in earlier...dandelions are beautiful...they remind me of you..." Peeta trails off again. My hands shake with emotion and if I talk I know I will burst into tears. Why is he so sweet to me? I stomp around like a brat, constantly demanding his attention and here he is being so lovely to me. Peeta picks up the small white birthday candle that was on the table and pierces the middle of the cake with the pin on the end of the candle. He then picks up the matches, carefully taking out a single match and strikes it. The flame fizzles to life, dancing a top the small matchstick. Peeta carefully lights the candle before turning and blowing the small flame out. Smoke rises and fades into the air and I smell the essence of burning wood. I suddenly miss Prim. Prim always remembered my birthday and she would always try and do something sweet. Peeta startles me out of my reverie.

"Blow out the candle and make a wish," he says softly. I don't know what to wish for, practically everything I want I can never get back. I feel a single tear escape and trickle down my cheek. Peeta is by my side, "don't cry, this was supposed to make you smile." I look up at him and he cups my cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb. Looking into Peeta's blue eyes, I see Prim, they are so alike in so many ways and I realize that I know what my wish will be. I turn towards the cake, Peeta's hand falls back to his side, and I softly blow out the candle. I face Peeta and smile at him, he smiles back.

"Did you make a wish?" he asks softly. I nod. "Have I made Katniss Everdeen speechless?" Peeta snickers, in mock disbelief, whilst gently tickling my side. I slap his hand away.

"Shut up, Peeta," I say laughing gently. He laughs too and he looks so adorable and I want to thank him for the cake, so I wrap my arms around his neck hugging him. "Thank you," I whisper. He wraps his arms around my waist and I don't make a move to let go for a good few minutes. He pushes against my hips with his hands moving me away, I lean back. Our faces are so close together and I see him staring at my lips, I practically will him to kiss me and I feel him edging closer. My heart jumps wildly in my chest and I wonder if Peeta can feel it. He rests his forehead against mine, disappointment sinks into my chest. You kiss him then, I think to myself.

"Would it be too crazy to eat cake for breakfast?" Peeta startles me with this question.

"No," I say, still trying to build up the courage to kiss him. Peeta moves away, places a small kiss on my nose and I sigh in exasperation, he doesn't seem to notice.

Peeta cuts two slices and passes one to me. Using my hands, I take a bite and every taste bud in my mouth sings. I scoff the rest and Peeta is smirking at me.

"Tastes great, Peeta," I say with a full mouth.

"Glad you like it," he finishes off his slice, "you can do anything you want today," Peeta tells me.

I look out the window and it is such a beautiful day, blue skies and a fresh breeze which enters intermittently through the window.

"I want to go hunting in the woods," I blurt aloud without even thinking it first.

Peeta smiles, "alone?"

"Yeah, I haven't been in over a year, I feel strong enough now..." I trail off.

"You don't need to justify yourself. Go get ready, I'll finish off here and meet you back here for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect...thank you, Peeta," I grab his hand.

He squeezes my hand, "Go, Katniss, before I change my mind and keep you here all to myself," he jokes. I let go his hand, jog up the stairs excitedly, and change into my hunting clothes, grabbing my bow and arrow. As I wave goodbye to Peeta, I think I still need to figure out how I am going to get him to kiss me.


	13. Chapter 13

**********************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**13**

Four hours later, I joyfully trudge back into the house. I have never felt so happy to be so sweaty and dirty. I spot Peeta sitting at the kitchen table sketching in his notepad. I walk up behind him and dangle the two squirrels I killed in front of his face.

"Through the eye every time," I laugh, Peeta jumps, recoiling at the dead squirrels.

"Well done," I can tell Peeta doesn't like having the squirrels so close to him, so I move them away.

"You have a good time then?" Peeta asks turning towards me in the chair he is sitting in.

"Oh yeah, it's like riding a bike," I grin. "I was thinking we could scrub these up for dinner tonight?" Peeta's face lights up at the idea.

"We could make my dad's squirrel pie," Peeta suggests. Although he is smiling, I can see sadness in his eyes at the thought of his dad.

"I'd like that," I say softly, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Right," Peeta stands, "you skin them and I'll prepare the rest of the filling and the pastry."

I place the squirrels in the sink and find the sharpest meat knife I can find and begin to skin them. I am so absorbed in what I am doing I don't notice Peeta prepping the vegetables and the pastry.

"Done," I say triumphantly, laying out the squirrel meat on the counter. Peeta glances over at me.

"Let's brown the meat and then we can mix it with the rest, before putting it in the oven," Peeta tells me competently.

A few minutes later, after topping the pie with fresh pastry, I watch Peeta place it in the oven.

"How long will it take?" I lick my lips, I am so hungry.

"30 to 40 minutes," he says whilst setting the timer on the oven. I groan at the thought of the long wait.

"Well, I might as well go and have a shower, I am so sweaty and dirty," I crinkle my nose to show how disgusted I am. Peeta looks at me strangely before surprising me with his next statement. He shakes his head, smirking sensually.

"Don't shower; I like you sweaty and dirty." My stomach flips at his blatant barefaced, although somewhat strange, attempt at flirting. I stare incredulously at him, not knowing how to reply. Peeta's cheeks fade to a deep shade of red and he appears embarrassed, he scratches his neck and does not make eye contact with me. I feel a sudden surge of daring come over me and I find myself gently biting my bottom lip. This is my chance to get him to kiss me. I try and reflect his earlier saucy smirk.

"Are you telling me that I have been trying to entice you with skimpy outfits, where I should have been wearing my dirty, sweaty hunting clothes all along?" I question. I want to laugh at Peeta's sudden look of shock at my reply.

"That was deliberate? You were _trying_ to drive me crazy?" he scoffs, now staring into my eyes. I nod and feel my cheeks warm at this outlandishly sexy conversation.

We stare at each other a little longer, the atmosphere smothered with awkwardness and longing. Peeta's lips move, as if he wants to say something, but no sound comes out. His eyes flicker to my lips.

"I want to kiss you," he eventually mumbles. "Please can I kiss you?" he almost begs.

"I want you to kiss me," I reply without hesitation, my voice deep and husky.

Peeta takes my hand and pulls me towards him; he fondles the end of my braid, staring at me intently. The anticipation of the kiss practically drives me insane. Peeta slides the band from my hair and tenderly undoes my braid. He gently cups my cheek and runs his thumb over my lips, parting them slightly. I lick my lips in response. Peeta breathes deeply. I place my hands against his broad chest, feeling the fast beat of his heart. Still caressing my cheek, he lovingly presses his lips to mine. My skin tingles and my own heart thumps hard against my sternum. Peeta's hands slide to my waist and I lift my own hands to the back of his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Peeta tugs at the bottom of my t-shirt bringing me closer to him; he moves from my lips, placing small delicate kisses from my chin down my throat. I lean my head to the side allowing him clear access to my sensitive, heated skin. I breathlessly moan his name. In response, Peeta places open mouthed kisses on my exposed neck, he breaths hotly next to my ear, "you taste delicious." A jolt of electricity shoots between my thighs and I want his hands on my bare skin. I guide his strong hands under my loose t-shirt, placing them on my naked stomach. He groans in surprise, grabbing my waist and firmly presses his lips against mine again. He makes me feel so sexy, so confident, so wanted. Our tongues meet consensually and simultaneously. I brazenly moan into his mouth, tentatively letting my hand slip under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his muscled stomach. I gently scratch my nails along the hair that trails into the low hanging waistband of his jeans. Tenaciously, I hook four fingers into the elastic of his boxers, rubbing my thumb slowly around the cool metal button of his jeans.

"When did you get so confident?" Peeta smirks against my lips.

"You make me feel confident," I reply.

The oven beeper alerts us that the pie is ready; I try and ignore it. Peeta pulls away, but my fingers are still hooked into his boxers and I yank him back to me.

"Woah," Peeta laughs, "I would definitely like to continue this, but I don't want the food to burn." I reluctantly let go of him, nodding in resignation. My whole body feels warm and I stare shamelessly at Peeta's behind as he bends to take the pie out of the oven.

"Don't know what's hotter, the pie or you," Peeta winks, wearing pink oven mitts and holding the steaming hot pie.

I smirk, rolling my eyes, "I don't think you could get any cheesier, Peeta."

I few moments later, Peeta and I are sat at the table eating the pie ravenously. We don't speak, just exchange knowing, bashful smiles.

"Haymitch came over whilst you were hunting," Peeta breaks the silence. "Wanted to wish you happy birthday and brought you this bottle of something, he said it was wickedly good grape juice." Peeta stands retrieving two glasses and the wicked grape juice, which is a deep purple color. He puts the glasses on the table and pops the cork from the bottle, taking a hesitant sniff. He wrinkles his nose.

"Would it be a stupid question if I asked if it was alcoholic?" I query; Peeta nods.  
"You want to try?" Peeta shakes the bottle and the liquid swirls thickly.

"Just a little," I take a glass and Peeta pours in a small amount. He then pours himself a glass. We look at each other warily, Peeta takes a gulp and I follow his lead. I scrunch my face and a shiver glides up my body. I look at Peeta and he laughs at me.

"You're adorable," he jokes condescendingly. Even though I usually like it when he tells me that, I feel slightly annoyed, so I gulp down the rest of the liquid and try and hide my distaste. Peeta's eyebrows raise and he looks at his full glass. Shrugging his shoulders he easily slips down the rest of his drink.

"I could easily beat you," I challenge, shoving my empty glass towards Peeta, who pours me a larger glass this time.

"Oh yeah?" Peeta taunts, measuring out the same for himself.

"On the count of three," I challenge. I stop suddenly and Peeta is looking sadly at me. I realize the weight of my words; the cornucopia, the mutts, the Nightlock, how we 'won' the Hunger Games. Peeta shakes his head like he is shaking the terrible memories from his mind.

"Come on then, on the count of three," Peeta reiterates. I find my hand is shaking slightly as I lift the glass to my lips. We stare deeply into each other's eyes.

"One, two, three..." we say concurrently, and I try my best to gulp down the whole glass.

"Blagh," I pull the glass from my mouth and a dribble of the liquid seeps down my chin, I wipe it away with my hand. Peeta has finished his glass and sits there grinning arrogantly at me. I quickly sip down the last few drops and angrily slam the glass on the table. I hate losing and I grumble under my breath and continue to eat my meal. Peeta laughs loudly. I feel warmness rising into my legs and my mind starts to swim from the alcohol. Peeta is still chuckling as he finishes off his own plate of food.

My annoyance wears off after Peeta persuades me to have another glass of the wicked grape juice and I feel extremely pleasant as we walk up the stairs to get ready for bed. Peeta jumps on the bed without even getting changed and I can tell he is slightly drunk as his cheeks are red and he is grinning like an idiot.

He laughs and makes kissing noises whilst patting the space beside him on the bed. I cross my arms and smirk at him.

"I need a shower," I state.

"Oh, come on, Katniss. I told you I want you dirty," Peeta laughs loudly. I think he is drunker than me. Did he drink more than me?

"Okay," I humor him. I slip my hand behind my back, under my t-shirt and unhook my bra. Peeta is watching me carefully. I slip one arm out of the strap and then pull my bra off out of the other sleeve of my t-shirt.

"Wow, magic!" Peeta laughs. I curtsey drunkenly and throw my bra at him. He catches it and I burst out laughing. This grape juice was, without a doubt, exceedingly wicked. Peeta is looking at me again expectantly, clutching my bra. Fueled by the wicked juice, I pop open the top button of my hunting trousers and Peeta sits up a little. I try and grin sexily, but I feel slightly awkward as I pull my trousers over my behind and shimmy them down my legs. I surprise myself by stepping out of them quite gracefully and I kick them off to the side.

I walk towards the bed, now only clad in my t-shirt and panties.

"Dirty enough for you?" I slur drunkenly. Maybe I am as drunk as Peeta. The only other time I saw this look on Peeta's face was on the opening day of the bakery. I try not to think too much, the alcohol helps in that respect as I kneel on the side of the bed and then mount Peeta like I would a wild stallion. Peeta's hands instantly caress my bare thighs. I put my hands on either side of his head and lean so close our noses are nearly touching.

"Are you going to kiss me or what?" I dare him.

Peeta instantly leans up and captures my desperate lips. His hands rub up and down the tops of my thighs and I caress this face with one of my hands. Our tongues drunkenly battle together and I feel his hardness pressing against the apex between my thighs. This doesn't scare me, this is Peeta, and I trust Peeta with my body and soul. I instinctually start to rock my hips against him and the pleasure we both receive is evident as we both moan. Peeta tenses slightly and I feel triumphant and powerful riding on top of him. His grip on my thighs tightens and starts to hurt a little. I open my eyes to peak at him and notice his eyes are scrunched together tightly. I wonder what he is thinking. Is this too much too soon? I move from his lips replicating the kisses he gave me in the kitchen. Kissing and sucking Peeta's skin I hear him start to mumble, but I can't hear what he is saying. He continues to grab my legs tighter and he roughly drags his nails from the tops of my thighs to my knees. Ouch is all I can think and then my heart hurts more than any part of my body ever could when I hear what Peeta says, as clear and as sharp as crystal.

"Mutt," he whispers sardonically. I stop kissing him instantly and sit up in shock.

"Peeta?" I question, my voice is small. His eyes are still tightly closed and his body is tense, his hands angrily squeeze at my thighs, his nails digging in to my skin. Peeta's eyes suddenly flash open and I don't recognize them. Peeta has gone and all I can see is pure hatred and disdain.


	14. Chapter 14

**************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**14**

As I stare into Peeta's hate filled eyes, I feel as if I might be sick from terror. His grip is tight, but I can't move anyway from the sheer shock of the situation and the alcohol swimming through my blood stream. Peeta scrunches his eyes closed and he looks like he is in terrible agony. I remember Peeta telling me, when I first moved in, that if he ever has a hijacking episode for me to get away as fast as possible. To my relief, his grip on my thighs slackens and I use this opportunity to move away from him. I push off, sitting on the bed. His teeth are clenched and it looks like he is in deep concentration. I briskly turn and move off the bed, but I feel Peeta's unexpectedly tight grip around one of my ankles. I yelp and feel blood rush straight to my head as I stumble and collapse onto the floor. I want to move, but the fall has winded me and I struggle to catch my breath.

"Where do you think you are going, Mutt?" Peeta's derisive drawl is against my ear; his hot breath warms my trembling skin. I feel his weight settle on my bare legs. I struggle to move and try and claw myself away. With astonishing strength Peeta grabs both my arms and twists them behind my back. Pain attacks my ensnared limbs as I try and fight him off. Fury makes my blood run hot. I am sick and tired of being trapped; trapped by hunger, trapped by the Capitol, by sadness, by my nightmares, by Gale, and now, by Peeta.

"Get off me, Peeta!" I shout irately, although a hint of panic makes my voice quiver.

"I know your game, Mutt. You are trying to seduce me and then you are going to destroy me. Like you destroyed my family..."

"No, Peeta!" I scream hoarsely, his words cut like a knife deep into my heart. "You are having a hijacking episode, none of that is real...ahhhh," I shout out in pain as Peeta pulls and twists my arms further behind my back.

"Shut up! Shut up!" I notice Peeta sobs as he shouts back at me. "You're a filthy lying Mutt and you deserve to die..." Peeta groans. "No, no, no, no, NOT REAL!" he screams as if he is talking to somebody else. I feel the rough carpet rub against my cheek as Peeta presses his forehead against my back, his grip on my arms remains steadfast.  
"Peeta, it's _not real, _everything you're thinking is _not real_; it's the hijacking. Peeta, please..." I start to beg, I don't know what else to do. I feel hot tears welling in my eyes, from sadness, anger and frustration.

"Shut the fuck up, you dirty whore," Peeta's voice is unrecognizable and his words hurt and infuriate me at the same time. I struggle hard against him, trying to block out the pain in my arms. "NOT REAL!" Peeta shouts again, continuing the battle he is having with himself. I resort back to begging. "Peeta, listen to me, this is _not real_. Please don't do this. You're hurting me..." I feel my hot tears scorch my cheeks and trickle onto the carpet below. "I love you, Peeta. I love you..." my heart aches with sadness and yearning as the confession bursts from my lips. I sob uncontrollably and I don't realize Peeta's grip has loosened until I feel his weight leave my body. My cries quieten as I listen to Peeta's footsteps moving away from me towards the bathroom, I hear the door slam, and the lock click, then silence.

I jump when I hear three loud thuds on the door. Then a loud cry comes from Peeta and a sudden smash of glass. I continue to lie on the floor; I bring my sore arms to the side and rest my palms on the rough carpet. I notice my pants rest where I had kicked them off not only a few minutes before. How could things change so quickly? I should know. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I listen to Peeta crying in the bathroom and I weep quietly to myself. I want to go and comfort him, but I know I can't. He is alone and I can't help him. I appreciate the strength and truth of my declaration of love for Peeta. Even having him holding me to the floor and wanting to kill me I still love him. That was not Peeta, the Capitol did this to him; I remind myself. I am angry at the Capitol, with Snow; I will not let Snow's legacy destroy the last true relationship I have.

After a few minutes, I stand up and stare at the bathroom door. I can still hear Peeta whimpering and he has begun to repeat over and over, "not real...not real...not real..." I want to go to him, to comfort him, but I turn and leave, walking towards the spare bedroom next door. I shut the door and turn the lock. I lie between the cool, lonely sheets in the large empty bed and hug my knees to my chest. I cry for Peeta and I cry for us. Where do we go from here?

I am awoken from a knock at the bedroom door. "Peeta?" I question. No reply. I wonder whether I should open the door. What if it is trick? A few moments drag by and I finally decide to take the chance. I walk towards the door and unlock it. Opening it slowing, I peak through the gap. The hall lights are on, but Peeta is nowhere to be seen. I look left and right, and then down, and see a small folded piece of paper on the floor. I pick it up and shut the door again, letting the lock click into place. I switch the main light on and stare at the piece of paper and slowly begin to unfold it. I recognize Peeta's handwriting instantly.

_Katniss,_

_ Words cannot express how sorry I am. It must have been the alcohol that set off the episode. I hope you are alright and I didn't hurt you too badly. I wish I could take care of you, but I don't trust myself around you at the moment. I just want to ask you one thing and you don't have to answer if you don't want too. You said you love me: real or not real?_

_Peeta_

I read the note several times over and I feel horrible knowing that Peeta cannot trust himself around me. I walk purposefully to the small desk in the bedroom and find a pencil. I turn Peeta's note over and I am not sure how to express my feelings in writing; not as eloquently as Peeta anyway. I decide to keep it simple and write, '_REAL'_, on the back of the note. I walk out into the brightly lit hall and slip my reply under the door to our bedroom. I reluctantly make my way back to the spare room, lock the door and hid under the bed covers.

I replay Peeta's episode in my head, I no longer feel the effects of the alcohol, although my mouth is dry and I feel slightly nauseous. The thought of Peeta's face as he battled against his hijacked memories brings tears to my eyes and I shake with sorrow. I wonder what Peeta is doing now? Has he read my note? It suddenly dawns on me; does he love me back? I have always assumed that he does. The way he looks at me, the sweet compliments, and the wonderful gestures. My mind trails further to when he kissed me in the kitchen. He cares for me deeply, at least know that. I remember the pleasurable feeling of his lips on mine and I crave him. I need Peeta more than I ever thought I would ever need anyone. This is not a time for me to feel sorry for myself. Peeta cared for me in my time of need and now it is my chance to make it up to him; to _show_ him how much a love him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

***This chapter is from Peeta's point of view starting from the hijacking episode.**

**15**

**Peeta's POV**

"Shut the fuck up, you dirty whore," I hear myself shout. Anger, deep penetrating anger consumes me; the need to kill her, to have her gone. The mutt needs to pay with her life for those she has taken from me. I enjoy her whimpers and pain-filled yelps. I experience unfathomable pleasure in feeling my fingers press firmly and painfully into her treacherous skin. Katniss fruitlessly struggles within my tight grip, trying to free herself, but she can't, not this time. My eyes are closed and I am leaning over, resting my forehead against her back. My head aches and I feel nauseous. I notice the shininess of the memories flashing in my mind. The sound of Katniss moaning below me and the way she smells conveys an excruciating pain through my chest. These memories are not real!

"NOT REAL!" I shout against her, trying to frighten this terrible feeling of revulsion away with my voice. I fight against the shiny, false memories, but it is difficult. The arduous battle between hate and love causes the pounding in my head to worsen and my heart aches.

"Peeta, listen to me, this is _not real_. Please don't do this. You're hurting me..." her despicable, lovely voice is filled with distress. I feel the hatred for Katniss ebbing away, replaced by sorrow and regret. What am I doing? Katniss shoots me straight in the heart with an arrow constructed from three simple words; three words that I have longed to hear for as long as I can remember.

"I love you, Peeta. I love you..." Katniss begins to sob and I feel numb. I let go of her and I need to get away. I am worthless, pathetic, how can she love me when this is what I do to her? I stand autonomously and walk to the bathroom; I decide I will lock myself away from her. She doesn't deserve this and I don't deserve her. I hear Katniss' sobbing turn to quiet whimpers. I shut the bathroom door, turn the lock and stare at the polished wood. The bright light in the bathroom sends a shooting pain through the front of my skull and frustration and regret surge through me; I hit the door hard three times with my fist. I turn and look at my reddened eyes and contorted features in the mirror; I slam my fist into my reflection. Glass shatters around me, broken, like my relationship with Katniss. I feel no physical pain as crimson blood drips from my hand. I turn and slide my back against the door and crouch to the floor. Tears slip rapidly down my cheeks and stick to my eyelashes. The need to hurt Katniss washes over me again, hot and shiny; I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists. The cut on my hand throbs, my quickened pulse pumps blood uselessly. I know the shiny hate fueled memories are not real. I continue to persuade myself by repeating, "Not real," over and over aloud. I become mesmerized by the repetition of my voice, and then my mind goes blank.

I wake up and it is dark and eerily quiet. The skin on my cut hand is stiff and stings, I look down to find my hand caked in dried blood and a small area of the carpet below me has turned red. My mouth is dry and there is a dull ache thumping against the front part of my skull. The memory of attacking Katniss, hurting her, sweeps over me like a tornado. Tears trickle down my cheeks and untainted sorrow squeezes tightly against my heart. Katniss trusted me, and I have caused her pain, unforgivable pain.

Running cool water against my hand soothes my lacerated skin and I watch the old blood circle its way down the drain. I can't stop thinking about Katniss, her voice echoes in my mind, "I love you, Peeta..." Does she? Or did she just say that to persuade the hijacked me to stop hurting her, to stop me from killing her? I don't know what to believe at the moment, my mind is so cloudy. I need to know if her love is real or not. Opening the door to the bathroom, for some reason, I expect to see Katniss still lying on the floor, but she is gone. I go to the kitchen, she is not there. A sinking feeling pervades my stomach, has she run off like she did when Gale hurt her? I don't even want to think that I have the capability to hurt Katniss as much as Gale did. I begin to walk quickly through the house, moving in and out of each room, searching for her. I stop dead when I stand in front of the spare bedroom door. I turn the door knob, but it doesn't budge. She must have locked herself away and I feel glad that she is still here and that she has done what I had asked her to do if I ever had a hijacking episode.

I don't want to alarm her, so I find a piece of paper and write her a note, this is the safest way. Trembling, I ask her on paper whether her love for me is real or not and I place the note at the foot of the door and knock quietly. I hear her beautiful, muffled voice query my presence, "Peeta?" I panic and quickly stride back to our room and lock myself in. I stand with my back pressed against the wooden door, close my eyes and try to even out my breathing. A few moments later, I hear a creak of the floorboards and soft footfalls against the hallway carpet. I know Katniss is outside my door and my heart beats wildly inside my chest. I feel the urge to tenderly hold her in my arms and whisper a thousand apologies, but I know that will never be enough. I hear a scratching noise and notice movement below, near my feet. A small piece of paper is being pushed through the bottom of the door. The paper stops moving and then a distant click of a lock signifies that Katniss has returned to the spare room.

Hesitantly, I pick up the piece of paper, not knowing what it might contain. What if she hates me? What if she never wants to see me again? It's the same note I wrote to her. Why is she returning it to me? Confused, I turn the crumpled paper and see a single word that makes my heart swell with joy and relief. "REAL." I clutch the note tightly in my hand and rest my head against the door. I allow the release of silent tears and I think of Katniss and dandelions and I feel hope blossom within me.

The thought of loosing myself to another hijacking episode deters me from going to Katniss that night. I try to sleep, but wake early to go to the bakery, with little rest. It feels strange walking to the bakery alone, as Katniss is usually beside me. I didn't disturb her in the morning; however, I left her yet another note telling her to stay at home and to rest.

"You alright, Peeta? You look exhausted," Bay is preparing bread rolls as I wearily mix batter for cupcakes.

"I didn't sleep well last night," I reply.

"Well, neither did Katniss, by the looks of things," Bay wiggles his eyebrows and nudges me and I wish that was the reason why Katniss was not here. I play along and smirk weakly. The bakery is busy, which distracts me slightly from the hollow feeling whenever I think about the previous night, however, by closing time, I can barely keep my eyes open.

"You should go home, Peeta. Can I lock up?" Bay asks me eagerly. I am so exhausted, I gratefully accept the offer.

"Yeah, Bay, thanks, that would be great," I nod in reply.

"Say hi to Katniss for me," Bay wiggles his eyebrows again.

Twenty minutes later, I apprehensively walk through the quiet house towards the kitchen. I spot Katniss sitting and at first I think she is just staring at the table, but I notice she has my sketch pad. She carefully turns to another drawing and I am captivated by her beauty. She is wearing sweat pants and one of my t-shirts, her long hair appears darker, maybe damp, tied in a side braid; she might have just had a shower. My pulse quickens as I think about how to approach her, should I mention the note? How will she react to me? She turns to another page in my sketch pad and I wonder which drawing she is looking at. Her expression is unreadable, her intense grey eyes move leisurely across the paper. Slowly, I take a shaky breath and move closer to her, she hears me, looks straight up and quickly shuts the pad, placing it on the table, where I had previously left it.

"Hi," I say, quietly. Katniss looks surprised but she does not look afraid, like I thought she would.

"Hi," she replies, her eyes bore into mine and I notice them soften. "Peeta, you look so tired." She doesn't look rested either. "Thank you for letting me take the day off," she smiles softly and my eyes automatically flicker to her lips.

"I am so sorry," I crumble and look down at the vanished wood floor panels. I hear the scraping of a chair and glance up and Katniss is edging towards me.

"You hurt your hand?" she questions. I nod; cautiously, she moves closer.

"Punched the mirror in the bathroom," I answer, embarrassed. Katniss reaches for my injured hand and runs her fingers across the loosely wrapped bandage. My heart sinks as I see the deep purple bruising on her arms, bruises made by my own hands.

"Oh god, Katniss," I whisper with regret whilst caressing her delicate skin with my uninjured hand. "Does it hurt?" I ask her. I need to know.

"Hardly," she replies softly. "Don't blame yourself, Peeta. Last night was not your fault, please don't worry about me..."

I cut her off, "Of course I am going to worry about you, I love you; I hate seeing you in pain," my throat is tight with emotion. Katniss looks straight into my eyes, and my heart falters at her haunting grey stare.

"Did you read my note?" She queries, the word REAL flashes in my mind.

"Yes," I reply, my voice cracks.

"You love me, too?" She questions, innocently. My heart swells with adoration and I want to kiss her, I want to kiss away all the pain she has ever had to endure.

"I have always loved you and I always will," I declare. Katniss' cheeks flush pink and she gently slides her small hand in mine and leads me towards the staircase.

"Katniss? I am slightly shocked and confused by her actions. She continues to guide me up the stairs and into our bedroom. The bed is made and I remember how tired I am.

"You need to rest," Katniss orders assertively, pointing at my shoes. I slide them off and to my utter surprise she unbuttons my pants and waits for me to take them off. Once I am in my boxers and t-shirt, Katniss pulls back the bed covers and sits on the bed. She looks at me expectantly and I don't know what to do. Not only a few hours ago I was attacking her and here she is now acting like nothing happened, like I didn't cause all those bruises.

"I love you, Peeta, and I trust you. Lie down with me," Katniss' voice is firm and I am astounded by her forwardness. Unquestioningly, I lie down in the bed with her, she covers us both with the bed sheet and she rests her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her warm body and sigh deeply with relief. The softness of her clothes and her familiar scent is comforting and I close my eyes.

"Thank you," I utter, opening my eyes, I watch Katniss' head move up and down with the rise and fall of my chest. She sits up, looking at me, puzzled.

"What for?"

"Just, for being here, for not leaving..." and for so much more, but I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable. The sun's soft evening light shines delicately through the window and I affectionately tuck a tendril of Katniss' hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes at my touch and reopens them when I caress her cheek. Tenderly, she traces her fingers along the outline of my lips before pushing herself up and lightly pressing her lips to mine. I can tell she is hesitant and I feel her body trembling slightly as I hold her. Her body betrays her false confidence and I hold onto her securely, wanting to reassure her, even though, I know she would never want to let on how apprehensive she is feeling. I continue to caress her cheek as she leads the kiss. The kiss is simple, sweet, and innocent. Everything our lives are not.

A few moments later, Katniss pulls away slightly to catch her breath and I am panting too. Her face stays close to mine and I can feel her short warm puffs of breath flutter against my moist lips.

"How can you still trust me after what I did to you?" I question without thinking. She pulls back further to look into my eyes.  
"The only thing you have done to me, is care for me, love me when I needed it most. Last night was an accident, Peeta. We should have known better than to drink that stupid alcohol Haymitch gave us. All you have done for the last three months is look after me, brought me hope and a reason to live. I am not going to lose you over a silly mistake..." I sit up causing her to sit with me.

"I wanted to kill you last night, Katniss, and I would have, I was going to!" I feel sick telling her this.

"You could have killed me, but you didn't. You fought the hijacking. You are so strong, Peeta," she looks at me earnestly. "This is just a small setback. Do you want to know what I wished for when I blew out the candle on my birthday cake?" The sudden change in subject startles me.

"If you tell me won't that mean it might not come true?" I ask. Katniss smiles.

"It had already come true, in a strange way, and I want to make sure it stays that way," I look at her perplexed. She looks even more nervous now.

"What? You want it to stay strange or true?" I laugh lightly, trying to calm her nerves. She smirks.

"True, obviously."

"Tell me?" I am intrigued.

"I wished...for you," Katniss breaths shakily.

"You have me, you know that," I reassure her, she nods in response.

"I know, but everyone I love is taken from me and, I guess, I wanted you to love me as much as I love you, but I didn't really know that when I made the wish, the hijacking kind of forced me to realize stuff and..." I smile at her. "Why are you laughing at me?" She looks hurt.

"I am not laughing at you; I just love you so much."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "I can't believe how you have turned me into this sappy girly girl."

"Love makes you do strange things," I joke. I suddenly become serious, "You love me; real or not real?" I question one last time.

"Real," Katniss replies before pushing me down on the bed and crashing her lips to mine. I love her unpredictability and I kiss her back with as much fervor. Our tongues meet and I enjoy how she tastes. Cautiously, I slip my hands under her t-shirt and touch the smooth skin of her lower back, she purrs like a cat and I feel myself getting hard. I can't believe how Katniss can arouse me so easily. I need to stop this before it goes too far. I don't know how deeply Gale has affected her; I need to know the boundaries.

"Katniss?" I whisper against her lips. Opening my eyes, I notice how dim the room has become. Katniss pulls away and I enjoy glancing at her puffy, red lips and I wonder if mine look the same. Despite the kissing, the guilt and sadness over last night is still strong; I want to do everything in my power to make it up to her, to make her feel safe with me again. She might say she is okay, but I know she is just trying to be strong.

"Where do we go from here?" I ask her.

"Let's just take one day at a time," she replies.

"You're in charge; you show me what you want," I smile at her.

"Sounds like a good plan," Katniss smirks salaciously before returning her lips to mine. I am surprised, guilty, aroused and confused all at the same time. I am not sure whether I am reading her correctly, but I relax into the kiss and allow her to take the lead.


	16. Chapter 16

**************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**16**

Summer has erupted from nowhere and despite having an unsuccessful hunting trip I stroll energetically into the kitchen. The scorching sun is finally surrendering to a balmy and humid evening. The long days are fiercely hot whilst the short nights are sultry and clammy. I proudly carry the single grouse I killed and clumsily place it in the large, white kitchen sink. Peeta is standing at the stove stirring something that smells delicious, making my stomach contract with hunger. I walk over to him.

"Hi," I say. He turns toward me smiling.

"Hi, Haym..." before Peeta can say anything else, I firmly press my lips to his. Peeta kisses me back languidly, the smile never leaving his face. I am completely stunned when I hear a wolf-whistle from behind us and I turn quickly, ripping my lips from Peeta's. Peeta says, his lips close to my ear, "Haymitch is here for dinner," and laughs, before kissing me on the cheek.

"Think you need to go and cool down, Sweetheart, looking a bit _hot_ and sweaty." As he speaks I smell the cloud of alcohol that surrounds him and he is obviously drunk as a skunk. His hair is extremely greasy and his clothes look like they have not been washed for weeks. "Well, you do look decidedly better than you did a few weeks ago; diseased and drunk, passed out on my kitchen floor," Haymitch snorts looking at me through strands of dirty hair that cover his grimy grinning face. I try and think of a witty comeback.

"Well, Haymitch, you look drunk and disgusting as usual, so nothing has changed there," I smirk. That will have to do. I cross my arms and lean against the kitchen counter next to Peeta, who is ignoring our banter, and tasting whatever he is stirring on the stove.

"What's for dinner?" I turn slightly towards Peeta.

"Chicken, it will be ready in 20 minutes," he turns to me and smiles again. I notice slight perspiration on his top lip and the hair near his neck is damp. He turns back to the stove and there is an awkward silence. I look to Haymitch, who is now resting his head on the table. I roll my eyes.

"I guess I will go and freshen up then," Peeta nods and Haymitch makes a grunting noise as I walk out of the kitchen.

I hear Haymitch sigh as if he is about to speak. I wait back, near the kitchen door, intending to listen to their conversation.

"Really, Peeta, how is she?" he grumbles, "After the whole Gale fiasco," Haymitch adds. Hearing Gale's name causes a bubble of anxiety to grow in my chest. It has been so long since Peeta and I spoke about the rape. We never really discussed it properly; it has always been a rather large elephant in the room. I have thought about that terrible night, dreamt about it, had nightmares where Peeta had to hold and comfort me. I listen intently for Peeta's reply.

"She still has nightmares, but those have lessened. I still worry about her though. I thought Gale would look after her; I thought he was the best person for her to be with, but it turns out he was the worst. I don't know how to make it better for her," Peeta sighs deeply. I imagine him rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he is upset.

"You're doing the best you can. Poor girl, she is lucky have you," Haymitch grumbles. Haymitch is such a tool when I am around and so different when he is with Peeta. He likes Peeta, that's why, and he doesn't like me. I have always rubbed him up the wrong way. Peeta laughs derisively.

"I am lucky to have her, Haymitch," Peeta corrects him. The bubble of anxiety in my chest turns to love for Peeta.

I stand and quietly walk up the stairs. I take my time in the shower, letting the cool water wash away the dirt and heat from my body. I think about what it would feel like to have Peeta touching me in more intimate places than on my arms, legs, face and waist, which is where his touch has been limited to since the hi-jacking episode. Would I be able to cope with Peeta touching me between my legs or even my breasts? Could Peeta pleasure me without me thinking about that night with Gale? When Peeta and I kiss my mind could be no further from that terrible night. Peeta is a man and he has needs, just like Gale did. I feel nervous and wonder how long Peeta would be willing to wait before he takes what he needs from me. I lean my head back, the water cascades down, soaking my long, dark hair. Peeta is not like that, he is nothing like Gale I remind myself.

After my shower, I braid my damp hair and dress in dark denim shorts. Whilst I am putting my green tank top on, I see Peeta's reflection in the mirror as he walks into the room. I turn towards him. "Just want to say dinner is ready and to give you this," Peeta firmly grabs my hips and pulls me close to him. His lips tenderly meet mine and I rest my hands on his chest. He smells of herbs and spices and sweat. I moan lightly as I allow his soft tongue to enter my mouth. After a couple of minutes of sweet gentle kisses, Peeta pulls away, takes my hand and we walk to the kitchen together.

Dinner is a mostly silent affair. I barely speak, but Peeta tries his best to spark conversation with Haymitch. He talks about the bakery and Bay and me, and how I am becoming an expert baker. Haymitch snorts incredulously at this and I glare at him. The meal Peeta has prepared includes roasted chicken, with a tasty thick sauce accompanied by carrots and potatoes with butter and mint. I eat voraciously and I feel annoyed when Haymitch only picks at his chicken.

"Peeta, this is delicious!" I exclaim brightly, whilst staring obtrusively at Haymich. Haymitch scowls back at me.

"Thanks, Katniss," Peeta's cheeks turn pink at my overzealous compliment.

"Right, I think I will be going now. Don't think I can stand being here with you love birds without needing another _vat_ of liquor," Haymitch stands to leave. "Sickening," he adds, shaking his greasy head of hair.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Peeta looks at Haymitch's full plate.

"Yes, I'll take this to go," Haymitch abruptly picks up the plate and makes a move to leave. Peeta gets up too.

"Katniss," Haymitch nods in farewell.

"Haymitch," I reply sternly. Haymitch stumbles drunkenly, I ostentatiously hold my hand to my nose as the cloud of alcohol and sweat and dirt follows him out of the kitchen. Peeta goes after him, but he is far more polite than me and pretends that he can't smell the stench.

I continue to eat and listen to their mumbled voices before the front door clicks shut. Peeta re-enters and returns to his meal. "I guess some things will never change," Peeta mutters. I cock my eyebrow.

"You and Haymitch," Peeta replies to my questioning expression.

"What about me and Haymitch?" I question churlishly.

"That," Peeta points out.

"What?" I hear the surliness in my voice. I realise Peeta is talking about the indignation that infiltrates every conversation or situation that Haymitch and I happen to be in together.

"He just doesn't like me, Peeta. Never has from day one. He doesn't treat me the same way he treats you," I assert bluntly.

"He does care about you, Katniss. He just has a funny way of showing it," I find it hard to believe; however I remember the conversation between Haymitch and Peeta I eavesdropped on earlier. Haymitch did want to know how I was. But why doesn't he just ask me? I guess Peeta is right; Haymitch and I will never change.

Peeta and I finish our meal and we wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. We don't need to fill the silence with conversation, we are happy to just be together. As I am drying the dishes my mind wanders to the exchange Peeta and Haymitch had about the rape, about Gale. I clearly remember the aftermath, the dandelion and how Peeta held me in the meadow. How he had brought me home and cared for me, no matter how much I resisted. I put the dish away and begin to dry another. I think back to the Victory Tour and how Peeta and I had to play up our relationship for the cameras for the entertainment of the Capitol. I shudder thinking how Peeta must have felt knowing that every embrace and every kiss we shared, during that time, was for the cameras. I was too selfish, to wrapped up in my own problems. I begin drying the cutlery. All I know now is that I love Peeta, cameras or no. "I'm going to get ready for bed," Peeta startles me out of my reverie. "You coming?" I know we have to wake up early tomorrow to work at the bakery and I nod in response.

"I'll be up in a minute," I reply. Peeta smiles and leans over placing a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder. Tiny pleasurable tingles sweep across my skin and I stare at Peeta's behind as he walks out of the kitchen.

Once I finish drying and putting away the last few dishes, I make my way up the stairs. Previously, I used to dread going to sleep in fear of crippling and harrowing nightmares, but now I impatiently anticipate night as I know I will be able to slip into bed with Peeta and pretend that the pain and unbearable atrocities no longer exist. As I enter the bedroom, Peeta is pulling back the thin sheet on the bed. The windows are open letting a warm breeze circulate throughout the stifling hot room. The curtains move softly at the windows. Peeta is wearing his pyjama bottoms and is bare-chested. I lick my lips as I glance at his lean muscles and the soft blonde hair that peppers his chest. My hands twitch at the anticipation of touching him. He looks up at me and I can see the hunger in his eyes; he wants me just as much as I want him. Since the most recent hi-jacking episode, Peeta has been particularly cautious about how and where he touches me. I am in charge he says, I like the idea, but sometimes I am too hesitant and inexperienced to lead our physical relationship.

My hand pops open the top button of my shorts and I slip them off. Peeta watches me carefully, his eyes tracing over my curves. I fold and place my shorts on the dresser. Peeta lies down still gazing at me. I get up on the bed and, on my hands and knees, I crawl over to him; I can't help but smile sensually. Peeta awaits my next move, allowing me to decide where, and how far, I will take us tonight. Most nights we kiss, sometimes I will place Peeta's hands on my bare stomach or encourage him to feel the heated skin on my back, but tonight I want to go a little further. I straddle Peeta and he laughs eagerly, he does not move his hands from his sides, he does not touch me, he waits for instruction. It is so hot; I grab the bottom of my tank top and lift it up over my head before throwing it to the floor, the balmy breeze from the window does nothing to cool my heated skin. I smile as Peeta's eyes grow larger and he unashamedly stares at my bra covered breasts. My stomach flips vigorously with lust at his reaction and I bravely move my hand behind my back to unhook my bra.

"Are you sure?" Peeta asks huskily. I nod and expertly flick open the two hooks with one hand. My bra loosens and I let the straps fall down my arms. I begin to feel unsure, but the look of awe and need in Peeta's eyes spurs me on. Once my bra is off, I drop it to the floor, beside the bed. I look at Peeta for reassurance, but he does not make eye contact with me. His stare is fixed intently on my bare breasts. He takes a deep breath and then looks into my eyes, pleading. I know what he wants and I pick up both his hands and guide them towards my chest. I moan his name softly as his skin touches my mine. He cups and gently squeezes my breasts which fit perfectly in his strong, firm hands. I drop my own hands from his and push my chest out. I close my eyes as Peeta continues to caress my sensitive skin; he runs his thumbs over my nipples and they harden beneath his touch.

"Can I use my mouth?" Peeta asks; his voice laced with want. I open my eyes and again my stomach twists with desire.

"Yes," I breathe heavily.

"Is it okay if you lie on your back?" Peeta queries kindly. His voice is soft and I love how he thinks about every detail, every move. I nod again and begin to move off him. Peeta moves with me, gently helping me to lie against the soft bed sheets and I rest my head on the recently plumped pillows. Peeta lays on his side next me and I feel his erection press against my leg; I have felt this many times before during our innocent kissing sessions and I love knowing that I have done this to him. His eyes graze wantonly over my breasts; I nearly giggle at his new fixation.

"Sorry," he apologises, "you are so beautiful," he adds almost breathlessly. He smiles shyly and looks deeply into my eyes. I smile up at him and run my hand through his blonde hair before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss turns from sweet to intense in a matter of moments and I feel pleasure building between my thighs, moistening my panties; the only item of clothing stopping me from being completely naked. Peeta's right hand moves hesitantly over my left breast and I hear myself whimper. He lifts himself up so he is hovering over me, moving hot, wet kisses down my neck, towards my chest. I feel my nipples harden further in anticipation.

I instinctively spread my legs, allowing Peeta to kneel comfortably between them. I sigh when Peeta's lips kiss down the valley between my breasts. "Do you like that?" Peeta asks, checking to see if he has not taken it to point that I can no longer endure.

"Yes, Peeta, keep going," I tell him, eager for him to continue. I moan his name loudly when I feel his lips press gently against my left breast and arch my back when his tongue tentatively licks my nipple, sucking it lightly between his lips. With the increase of my moans, Peeta becomes more fervent, moving his lips and tongue from one breast to the other. I don't know what to do with my hands, so I place them on his head. My back is arched and one of Peeta's arms wraps around my naked waist supporting me.

Peeta begins to kiss down my stomach, edging closer toward the top of my panties. I feel damp with arousal and wonder what Peeta will think. Will he like it? I realise Peeta is looking up at me, his lips are red and swollen, his eyes dark and lustful. I know what he wants; I have seen that same look in Gale's eyes. Gale. I gently shake my head and feel my body tremble slightly with anxiety. Peeta smiles reassuringly and begins to kiss his way back up my stomach, between my breasts and up my neck. He greets my lips with his, and kisses me slowly, gently bringing me down from my highly aroused, yet anxious, state. Peeta can read me like a book; I don't have to say anything, he knows what I am feeling. My rapid breathing soon returns to normal and Peeta moves from between my legs. He lies beside me, wrapping his strong arms around my nearly naked body. "Thank you," he whispers into the quietness of the room. I snuggle closer to his bare chest, despite the stifling heat.

I find it hard to sleep as I think about how far we could have gone; about how far I want to go. After a few minutes, Peeta moves from me and slips off the bed. "Where are you going?" I ask quietly.

"To take a shower," he replies softly. I nod; it is a particularly hot night and sometimes cool showers are the only relief from the sweltering heat. "I won't be long," Peeta kisses my lips before walking to the bathroom and switching on the light. Steaks of artificial light strike out, though the door, against the floor and wall and ceiling, slightly lightening the dim bedroom. He leaves the door ajar and I hear the rushing water of the shower. I wait without attempting to sleep because the nightmares are more than I can handle alone. I few moments later the shower turns off, I close my eyes knowing that Peeta will return at any moment. I hear the click of the bathroom light and Peeta's soft footsteps. He pulls the thin summer bed sheet over my body and slides in next to me. Peeta moves closer and we settle into a comfortable embrace. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too, Peeta," I sigh contentedly, finally allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

The next day is so hot that as soon as I step out of the cool shower I am sweating again. The air outside is still, warm breezes are reluctant and few and far between. The air in the bakery kitchen is belligerent as I attend to the ovens and help Bay with the mixing of batter and bread dough. We only have a few customers that day, as most people are taking refuge in their homes from the blaring sun and blistering heat.

"I can't believe this heat wave. I heard it's going to be like this for a while," Bay wipes the sweat of his brow with a cloth, before tucking it into the knot of his apron. Bay and I are sitting behind the counter in the empty bakery. Peeta is decorating cakes in the kitchen.

I nod, "I know, it's hard to even sleep," I sip at the chilled glass of water, the ice cubes which I had placed in the glass only a few moments ago had already melted, condensation leaving the glass foggy and damp. Peeta enters with a tray filled with small round cakes; he places them on the counter.

"You'll like these ones, Katniss," Peeta beams proudly.

"I like all your cakes," I roll my eyes.

"Me, too," Bay interjects, before taking a cake from the tray and stuffing it in his mouth. "Mmmm," Bay shows his appreciation.

"You didn't even look at the decoration," Peeta laughs, before passing a cake to me. I look at the cake and smile when I see Peeta has beautifully decorated it with intricate dandelion flowers.

"You and dandelion flowers, Peeta," Bay speaks still with a mouthful of cake. "Are they your favourite flower, Katniss? 'Cause Peeta can't stop decorating the nearest baked good with them," I laugh as Bay finally swallows his mouth full of cake.

"I guess they must be," I look at Peeta, who is now eating one of the cakes. I take a bite of mine and enjoy the soft sponge and butter cream topping. I lick any residue from around my lips.

"Bay, you can go early if you want, I don't think we are going to be getting any more customers today. Katniss can do all the cleaning up," Peeta winks at me and I play along, grumbling.

"That's unfair, Bay gets to go and I have to hang around. You better pay me extra," I joke. Bay laughs whilst untying his apron.

"Oh, I will," Peeta winks again, this time ostentatiously, Bay raises his eyebrows and I feel my cheeks redden.

"Well, I better be off then. Have fun, Peeta," Bay slaps Peeta on the shoulder and they both laugh.

"Bye," Peeta and I say in unison as Bay walks out the door into the still evening heat.

"So, Katniss, I am afraid I can't offer you money for your extra work, but I can pay in other ways," I try and hold in my laughter.

"Okay, Mr Mellark, what is your best offer?" I stand from the stool I was sitting on, so I am face to face with Peeta. Peeta brazenly looks me up and down and begins to untie my apron; he doesn't take it off though. He licks his lips and I am ready for him to kiss me. I close my eyes and feel his soft, familiar lips press against mine. Without hesitation our tongues meet, suddenly Peeta pulls away, leaving me wanting more. He efficiently re-ties my apron around the front of my waist.

"There is more where that came from. Now, off to work!" Peeta orders holding my shoulders turning me around and gently tapping my behind. I jump slightly and yelp.

"Okay, but I will have to complain to the manager if I am left unsatisfied," I grumble skulking into the kitchen.

I hear Peeta laugh, "You won't be and, anyway, I am the manager!" he yells so I can hear from the kitchen. I laugh in response and begin to clean away the used pots and pans.

Half an hour later, Peeta has me cleaning the glass display cases, he watches me for a while, pointing out how he is enjoying the view, as I lean over to clean the counter. He makes me laugh, so I wiggle my behind and stretch out further.

"Mmmm, I better go and do the accounts before I kiss you senseless in front of anyone who walks by," Peeta mumbles.

"Okay," I say innocently. Peeta narrows his eyes.

"I only pay for a job well done, Katniss. So I will be back to inspect your work," Peeta continues the joke from earlier.

"Yes, Mr Mellark," I reply. He grins and I grin back at him as he walks through to the kitchen. I continue to smile to myself as I clean the glass cases ensuring they are spotless. I love being able to play around with Peeta and, for once, I actually feel my age, I truly feel like a silly, carefree teenager. I feel hopeful as I reach for the tray with the dandelion flower cupcakes. I hear the jingle of the door to the bakery, but I can't see who it is as I have my back turned.

"Sorry, but we are closed for today," I say apologetically as I turn towards the customer, holding the tray of cakes. My heart stops as I make eye contact with them, I lose control of my grip and the tray of dandelion cakes, as if in slow motion, crash to the floor. I cannot hear the loud noise the tray makes as it collides with the hard marble, all I can hear is my heavy breathing and now pounding heart. I take a step back to only be met with the counter, I feel sick with shock, as if I had been winded in the stomach.

"Katniss," Gale breaths, I stare into his tired gray eyes. I want to run, but I am frozen from shock and fear. All the memories of the rape come flooding back, angry, hot and excruciating.


	17. Chapter 17

**************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**17**

All I can feel is the thumping of my heart, my blood rushing through my veins like an unstoppable flood. My mouth becomes dry and my hands feel hot and sweaty. Gale's eyes are weary; he looks unshaven, pale and much thinner than I remember. He holds a brown leather bag at his side.

"Katniss," he repeats my name. I shake my head. I don't want him to be here; I don't want to hear him say my name. "I'm sorry, Katniss," I feel my eyes stinging and I don't want to blink as I know the tears will come faster if I do. "I had to see you. I can't stop thinking about that night. I was so drunk and the guilt is unbearable..." Gale edges toward me. A bad taste seeps into my mouth, my hand moves to my shoulder reaching for an imaginary arrow. Gale stops. He holds his hands up in the air as if in surrender. "I am not going to hurt you," he whispers. My eyes flicker to his large hands and I feel a single tear trickle down my cheek. Those hands appear often in my nightmares; holding me to the bed, gagging my agonizing screams. I try and swallow, but my mouth is dry. Heat washes over me and my fists tighten.

I take a step toward him, my vision becoming blurred. Gale looks at me warily. Clenching and unclenching my right fist; my chest feels as if it is about to explode. Gale has hurt me more than he will ever know, I think, as an irrepressible force moves my hand and smacks Gale hard across the left cheek. He groans loudly holding his hand to his face. That solitary smack has opened an emotional dam and I throw myself at him, pounding my fists against his arms and chest and face; anywhere I can reach. I distantly hear my hysterical screams, but I am no longer in control; I am being forced to act. I pummel a barrage of expletives whilst my sight is distorted by unrelenting tears. Visions of Gale flash before me; the boy who could make the most intricate snares, who worked hard to care for his family, who helped me hunt to feed my own. Who I see now, is a rapist, a man who brutally stole one of the only things the Capitol could not take from me.

I feel someone pulling me away. I scream in protest. I want to keep hurting Gale; hit and punch and kick until he is nothing but a bloody pulp. I claw at the strong arms that encircle my waist, my nails digging into flesh, but the grip does not relent. I turn and hit the owner of the strong arms. Grappling, I try to free myself. I hear my name in the distance, my vision remains obscured from the tears that descend to moisten my cheeks. The strong arms lift me from the waist and begin to pull me towards the kitchen; I kick out trying to stop them. I no longer know why I am fighting; I just do. Eventually, I am placed in the kitchen and the door is quickly closed, locking me in. Slamming my fists against the wood, I pound in rhythm to the heavy beat of my heart. My screams turn to sobs and I slide to the cool marble floor. Silencing my cries, I strain to listen. I quieten my mind trying to understand the angry voices from behind the door.

"I needed to see her!" I hear Gale's deep voice.

"She definitely didn't need to see you! You should not have come."

Peeta? I hear Peeta's voice. In my foggy mind I realize it was Peeta who pulled me away, Peeta who I punched and scratched and screamed at. I feel guilt rise into my stomach making room for itself alongside every other painful emotion. "You broke the promise. It is taking all my willpower not to beat the crap out of you right now!" Peeta's voice breaks slightly.

"Fine, I said what I needed to say. Just tell Katniss, again, that I am sorry."

Peeta does not reply; there is deafening silence. I press my ear harder against the wood. I wonder what Peeta is talking about; what promise? A moment later, I hear the jingle of the bell above the bakery door. I quickly stand, stepping away, wiping fervently at my wet eyes and cheeks with my hands.

The lock clicks and the kitchen door opens. "Katniss?" I hear Peeta question softly. I realize that my hands are still trembling and my eyes feel sore. Peeta's face is red and scarlet scratch lines criss-cross down his neck and along his hands and arms. My breath hitches and guilt pours through me.

"I'm sorry!" I cry before throwing my arms around his shoulders and gently kiss the reddened skin on his neck. Peeta sighs, holds me tightly and rubs his hands up and down my back.

"You don't need to be sorry," Peeta mumbles. "Let's just go home."

I pull away from our embrace and watch Peeta as he carefully unties my apron. He gently slips it over my head and places it on the shiny kitchen counter.

As soon as we get home, Peeta walks straight upstairs. I follow meekly. Sitting on the bed, I glance at my fists which are red and slightly swollen.

"Are you going to get ready for bed?" Peeta glances at my aching hands. He sighs when I don't reply and bends down to slip the sandals from my feet.

"Lie down," he instructs me. I do and he lies next to me. I move closer, and rest my head against his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart. Hopelessness hammers within me, tears return and I grip tightly onto Peeta. He kisses me gently on the forehead, tenderly tracing patterns, with his fingers up, and down the skin of my bare arm. The soft, tickling sensation is soothing and I close my eyes.

My nightmare revolves around that evening's events, except this time, Peeta is not there to save me. I wake up to Peeta's calming voice and sweet kisses. He soothes me back to sleep, only to be awoken again by another nightmare. This happens on and off throughout the night, Peeta's embrace does little to stifle the painful images infiltrating my subconscious. The next time I wake, it is to the call of my name. I open my eyes and Peeta is looking at me, he is dressed and I sit up abruptly.

"Are we late?" I question panicked.

"No, no, don't worry. I think you should stay home today. You had a terrible night," I do feel exhausted, but Peeta was up half the night too. I don't question him. "I'll be okay," his smile looks pained. He leans down and places a lingering kiss on my lips.

"I love you," he says. My heart skips a beat and I suddenly feel lighter. My eyes follow him as he stands.

"I love you, too," I reply, Peeta smiles and walks toward door. He stops, and hesitates, before turning to me; he walks back to the bed and sits down. I don't know what he is doing and I am not sure whether I should feel worried or amused. He looks deeply into my eyes and leans over, kissing me intensely on the lips. I whimper as our tongues meet.  
"I can't stand being away from you," he laughs slightly, breaking the kiss. "Haymitch will come and check on you," Peeta adds. I roll my eyes and grumble. Peeta laughs and squeezes my hand reassuringly.

Once Peeta has left, I forcefully drag myself out of bed and make toast for breakfast. It is still early in the morning and the birds chatter aggressively outside the kitchen window. I think about what happened with Gale, I wonder where he is now. Did he go back to District 2? I nibble at the toast and shudder when I hear the doorbell. My stomach contracts anxiously, I know it is Haymitch, but a small part of me thinks it might be Gale.

After confirming that it is Haymitch, by looking through the peephole, I open the door and am impressed that he has actually made the effort to wash his hair and put on clean clothes. He pushes past me, walking straight through to the kitchen. I shake my head; what a jerk. Haymitch is looking through all the cupboards, slamming each door as he goes. I ignore him and attend to my cold toast. Half way through his kitchen raid, Haymitch turns to me. He rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue and slumps himself in the chair opposite.

"You okay?" he asks, sounding extremely put upon.

"I know Peeta put you up to this, so don't bother making the effort," I gripe.

"Peeta told me Gale turned up at the bakery last night. How'd that turn out?" I could not be more annoyed by Haymitch than I am right now. I stand and lean against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms. The frustrations of last night, lack of sleep, Peeta not being here and having Haymitch badgering me is completely overwhelming and I can't hold back the tears that fill my eyes. I cover my face with my hands, but a rather large sob gives me away.

"Oh, jeez, you got to be kidding?" Haymitch groans. "C'mon, Sweetheart, don't do that." I whimper slightly and wish Peeta was here because he knows how to dull the pain. Haymitch grumbles and groans, muttering a few swear words under this breath. My tears are hot against my cheeks and I lick my lips tasting their saltiness. Quiet sobs rack my body and I hate the fact that Haymitch is here to see me cry. I feel pathetic and I wish he would do us both a favour and go home.

"I can't believe I am doing this," Haymitch whines as he stands from his chair, wraps his hand around one of my wrists, and pulls me to him. My body tenses. What is he doing? Awkwardly, Haymitch pats my back as I shift uneasily in his feeble embrace. Is Haymitch trying to comfort me? I look up at him incredulously; he peers down at me, a strange look on his face.

"Feeling better?" Haymitch questions stiffly. My tears have stopped from utter bewilderment. I nod and we both take a quick step back from each other. I wipe away any leftover tears and lean back against the counter. There is awkward silence and I stare down at my bare feet. Haymitch clears his throat.

"Don't tell anyone about that," he mumbles.

"No," I shake my head vigorously, still gazing at the floor.

"Listen, Katniss, you and Peeta have worked so hard to get to this point. Don't let this idiot screw it up. Pick yourself up, at least for Peeta's sake. He is worried you will go back to how you were, all sad and moody. I actually don't see the difference, but, Peeta does, and you need to decide now, are you going to move forwards or backwards?" Haymitch is pointing a finger at me and I am startled.

"Forwards," I answer honestly.

"Exactly," Haymitch waves his pointed finger at me. "Now, where is that white liquor Peeta promised me?" Haymitch returns to rooting through the kitchen cupboards. No matter how much it pains me to think it, Haymitch is right. I am not going to let Gale, or anyone for that matter, dictate how I feel. Yes, there is pain, but I ultimately decide how to deal with it.

"So, what are you going to do?" Haymitch asks continuing the search under the kitchen table.

"I am going to the woods," I smile.

"Excellent! Before you go, where does Peeta hide the liquor?" Haymitch is looking uncharacteristically intrigued.

"We don't keep liquor in the house," I smirk. Haymich's eyes widen and his face contorts.

"Cheeky bastard," Haymitch whispers under his breath. He storms past me.

"Thanks, Haymitch," I shout as I hear the front door slam shut.


	18. Chapter 18

******************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters.**

**18**

I love the smell of summer. I run my fingers across the thriving leaves of woodland plants and feel the warm sun on my skin. I tenderly stroke the rough bark of the trees that span decades old. These trees have seen me grow from a young girl, hunting with her father, to a young woman, at the cusp of adulthood, already scarred and broken. I take deep breaths and imagine all the anger and pain leaving my body. This is where I feel most at home, in the woods, alone. I don't hunt. I just enjoy the pureness of nature.

After a couple of hours, I sit down on a familiar patch of earth. I can see for miles across the rolling hills. I close my eyes and raise my head towards the sun, relishing in its embracing heat. A soft breeze glides over me and I sigh. Why can't life be simple? I feel like I have already lived a thousand lifetimes and experienced more tragedies than any person can bear. I sink my hands into the verdant grass below me. My hands are still sore from the night before and anger courses through my veins. Gale. Why did he have to come back? I was just starting to feel myself again. Hope was becoming a reality. Then Gale's return forces those terrible memories to the forefront of my mind. Haymitch is right; I need to move forward. |However, pushing through the bad thoughts and memories is like walking through the darkest and thickest tree sap. It's hard; sometimes relenting to the darkness is easier than fighting it.

I eat a small packed lunch I brought with me; a bread roll and cheese. I don't want to go back to the house just yet. I spend more time hiking through the woods; watch squirrels leap from branch to branch; even feed a small bird left over bread crumbs. I realise that Peeta will be home soon and want to be back in time for his return. Despite this, I take my time walking back, deciding that I will try and come more often to the woods. Not to hunt. Just to enjoy the simplicity of nature.

My clarity of mind withdraws the closer I get to the old Victor's Village. However, the thought of seeing Peeta is a silver lining which makes each step a little easier. I glance at my own Victor's house; to me a house of horrors. I look up at the window which belongs to the bedroom I shared with Gale. A shiver creeps up my spine. My eyes drift downwards. Suddenly, I feel as if a knife has been trust deep into my chest as I make eye contact with Gale. He is sitting on the porch steps of the house, watching me.

Why is he still here? He continues to stare at me and I see he is holding a bottle of liquor. He takes an expert swig without dropping his gaze from me. Anger courses through me. I am fed up with being the victim, being made to feel pathetic and weak. How dare Gale sit there and taunt me. Without thinking, I stride up to him. He stands as I approach.

"What are you still doing here?" I shout. My voice is surprisingly stern. Gale glares at me; I stop short not wanting to get too close.

"Did you go hunting?" Gale deflects my question, but I am having none of it.

"Peeta is going to be back soon and he is going to be pissed to see you're still here," I feel encouraged by the strength in my voice. Gale smirks and takes another swig of liquor. His face darkens.

"Are you fucking him?" My eyes widen at Gale's lewd question. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out, I don't even know what to say.

"You're fucking him, aren't you?" Gale steps toward me, his demeanour belligerent. I should say it's none of your damn business but I want to play him at his own game. I try to appear composed and confident.

"Yes," the lie even tastes deceitful, but I want to piss Gale off. I want to hurt him, show him he means nothing to me. "We make love...and he is always gentle..." Gale's face is thunderous, but there is pain in his eyes and that delights me. I have stuck the knife in, I might as well twist it a bit. "...and when we..._fuck_...he makes me come so hard," the vulgar language sounds foreign coming from my mouth. Gale gulps the last mouthful of liquor and throws the empty bottle in the evening primrose plants. My fingers tingle and heat rises in my stomach.

"Why do you do this to me, Katniss?" Gale's face is sad all of a sudden. I stay silent and stare at him as if he is beneath me. "I regret what I did, Katniss. But for years you have led me on. At one point, I even thought we had a future. But then the Games and _Peeta_..." his fists clench when he spits out Peeta's name. "It changed everything. Do you have any idea how torturous it was watching you kissing him on TV, flaunting yourself? It drove me crazy. Then after the rebellion, you asked me to sleep next to you because of the nightmares. It was never enough though, was it? You always called out for _Peeta_," Gale's sadness goes as fast as it came and his irritation resurfaces.

My memory of the few weeks after the rebellion is hazy. Dreams, nightmares and reality all meshed into one and I didn't really notice how it affected Gale. I can see him physically shaking. "I have been trying to block out what I did to you. Liquor, morphling, none of it takes away the pain...the regret." I say nothing. I feel empty thinking how broken we have both become. "Say something!" Gale shouts. Before I can move, Gale grips my arms and starts shaking me . "Say something!" he shouts again, before pushing me away. I stumble and fall to the ground, like the empty liquor bottle.

Suddenly, I hear Peeta's voice shouting. He strides past me and grabs Gale by the collar of his shirt, holding him upwards.

"What are you still doing here?!" Peeta spits out, I have never seen him so angry, except during a hijacking episode, and it scares me. I stay seated on the soft grass, gripping the overgrown wisps in my fingers. Gale tries to fight back, but Peeta is healthier and stronger. Peeta shakes him. "You broke the promise. You didn't look after her!" Peeta is screaming in Gale's face. I stand up awkwardly. "I trusted you. You were better for her than me; she was supposed to be safe with you!" Peeta's voice becomes hoarse. I wonder, again, what promise Peeta is talking about. Did Gale and Peeta have some sort of packed? Were they discussing and deciding my future, even when I couldn't even see a future with me in it?

Peeta pushes Gale up against the porch fence. Gale tries to free himself from Peeta's grasp, but the effects of the alcohol and morphling must have ravaged his body and consumed his strength. Peeta pulls back his fist and slams it into Gale's face and that's when I scream. I feel as if I am back in the Games, and I can't stand it. I cripple and crouch to the floor, cover my ears and shut my eyes. All the confidence and control I exuded earlier has dissipated. Guilt consumes me.

I hear a third voice shouting above the thumps of Peeta's punches and my eyes snap open. Haymitch is pulling Peeta away from Gale. He holds Peeta at the end of one arm and Gale at the other. Gale groans; blood drips from his nose. Peeta's face is red and I can see he is struggling to control himself.

"Take her away from here," Haymitch says to Peeta, gesturing towards me, "I'll deal with him," he adds. Peeta looks at me for the first time and I must look pitiful crouched on the ground like a scared child. "Come on, Peeta. Take the girl home, I'll deal with the rest," Haymitch nudges Peeta and he looks dazed. Peeta suddenly snaps out of it and walks towards me. I stand and fall desperately into his arms, whimpering his name. He holds me briefly, then he grasps my hand and leads me to our house. I don't look back.


	19. Chapter 19

**********************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters**

**********************************WARNING: MAJOR LEMON**

**19**

"I would have killed him if Haymitch didn't show up." Peeta is standing at the kitchen counter, shaking his head whilst staring out the window. He turns to me, "Something inside me snapped." I think how tired, pale and thin Gale looked. He looked ill, really ill. I knew he was drinking, but the morphling was a surprise.

"The promise," I say. A flicker of recognition settles into Peeta's strained blue eyes. "What promise did you make with Gale?" I question. Peeta sighs deeply whilst rubbing his eyes.

"When I returned to 12 I wanted to see you so badly. My hijacking episodes were terrible though." I listen intently, Peeta continues. "Greasy Sae told me about the nightmares, and it just killed me that I couldn't comfort you." Peeta sits at the table, pulling his chair closer to mine. "Gale would visit often and he would give me updates on your progress," I nod and he takes my hand. "I realised that, no matter how much I wanted to be with you, your happiness and safety was most important to me," he strokes the skin of my hand. "I knew that Gale made you happy, that maybe, you even loved him. After one terrible hijacking episode, I asked Gale to promise me that no harm should ever come to you. I wanted you to be safe and if it meant you being with Gale, I was willing to accept that."

I look into Peeta's sorrowful eyes and I can't even imagine how he must have felt. It now makes sense why Gale was so protective; Peeta made him promise. I tighten my grip on Peeta's hand and suddenly feel guilty at having lied about the nature of our relationship, using it to punish Gale. "A part of me blames myself. I should have protected you," Peeta mumbles. He brings my hand to his lips, gently placing a soft kiss on my swollen knuckles.

"You did what you thought was right," I answer roughly. I am reminded how deeply Peeta loves me. I want to tell him how much a love him; how badly I need him. But words seem to fail me.

A loud, insistent banging startles us. Peeta drops my hand and strides towards the front door. Peeta returns with Haymitch in toe. I sit up straighter.

"So what happened?" Peeta grumbles.

"You sure punched the crap out of that boy," Haymitch states, a grave look upon his face. "He started vomiting after you left. Greasy Sae is checking him out back at your old Victor's house," Haymitch gestures to me.

"Does Greasy Sae know about the rape?" Peeta asks the same question I am thinking.

"No, she doesn't know anything. She just thinks Gale is back and he got in a fight with you over Katniss," Haymitch exclaims. I don't want her to know what Gale did to me; a have been humiliated enough.

"Don't say anything about it to her," I tell them. Haymitch and Peeta nod and I know they understand.

"The boy looks pretty sick to me. Very thin..." Haymitch begins, but I cut him off.

"He said he has been drinking a lot...and he has been taking morphling."

"He told you this?" Peeta glares at me.

"Yes, before you turned up."

"That explains a lot," Haymitch interjects. "I contacted Hazelle in District 2. She said that Gale was fired from his job a couple of weeks ago for heavy drinking. She is very worried about him."

My heart stops when Haymitch mentions Hazelle. I had not thought about Gale's mother and Rory, Vick and Posy. What must they be thinking? How are they surviving in District 2 without Gale? I never want them to find out what happened between me and Gale. I begin to bite my nails; Peeta rests his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"What are we going to do with him?" Peeta asks. "There is no way he is going to stay here."

"I'll have to figure something out," Haymitch shakes his head."Peeta, you just make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," Haymich points his finger at me. My mouth drops in disbelief, I am not that brainless and pathetic. I stand, pointing my own finger at Haymitch.

"Now, listen here..." I begin, but Haymitch has already turned and walked out the kitchen. I glare at Peeta, who shrugs his shoulders. We hear the front door slam shut.

"Any chance to have a dig at me," I grumble, crossing my arms tightly over my chest like a petulant child. Peeta's smile does not reach his eyes as he pulls me into a hug. I resignedly wrap my arms around him, sighing deeply, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread and herbs.

Peeta and I eat in silence, lost in our own thoughts. I can't stop thinking about Hazelle and the kids. I think about Rory. How old must he be now, 14, 15? I remember wanting to teach him how to hunt and shoot. Hazelle would be heart-broken if she ever found out about Gale. That is not how she raised her son. I watch Peeta who is also deep in thought. The knuckles of his right hand are swollen like mine, and his arms and neck still bare the remnants of my nails scraping against his skin.

We follow our evening routine of cleaning the dishes and clearing the kitchen. As soon as we reach the bedroom, Peeta strips off his shirt, complaining how hot it is. He lies down on the bed, still wearing his jeans and shuts his eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower," I tell him. Peeta nods, his eyes remain closed.

I leave the bathroom door ajar and practically rip off my sweaty, grass-strained clothes. I undo my braid and tie my hair in a high, messy bun. I enjoy the cool water against my skin. I massage the sweet smelling soap across my body and imagine my hands are actually Peeta's, rubbing and caressing me. I feel a pang of guilt, thinking of Peeta like that, at a time like this, but I can't help myself. Heat pools between my thighs as I stroke my own breasts. My breathless whimper is drowned out by the pounding water.

My hands still when I hear Peeta shouting my name; his moans of pain startle me into action. I jump from the shower, grab a towel and wrap it around me. I rush to Peeta, who is thrashing on the bed, his eyes closed and his face contorted in pain.

"Katniss," he groans. I sit on the bed and place my hands on Peeta's bare shoulders, trying to wake him. Since I have moved in with Peeta, his nightmares have been few and far between.  
"Peeta, wake up. You're having a nightmare," I smooth my hand across his sweaty forehead. His eyes flash open, but they are glazed over.

"Katniss?" He questions. Leaning on one arm, he caresses my cheek. Kneeling before him, I rest my hand over his.

"It's okay. Everything is okay," I whisper. He sits up completely, kissing me on the lips, along my jaw and down my neck. I still have droplets of water resting on my skin. Closing my eyes, Peeta places gentle, but needy kisses along my collar bone. His hand moves from my cheek, down my shoulder and smoothes against the white towel which conceals my nakedness. He brings his hand to where I have tucked in the towel, near my breast. He rests his hand there for a few seconds, as if asking for permission. I keep my eyes closed and enjoy Peeta sucking on my neck, heat again pools between my thighs. All I want at that moment is Peeta's hands on me. He slowly loosens the towel, pulling it away completely and throwing it behind him onto the floor. I am now completely naked. Peeta groans at the sight of me. His hand reaches for the messy bun atop my head and unties it, letting my long, curled hair cascade down my back and across my shoulders. My skin tingles and craves his touch. He moves his lips to mine, kissing me languidly, before moving to my breasts. I place my hands in his soft, blonde hair as he sucks on my nipples, one at a time.

A low guttural moan escapes my lips and my body trembles with anticipation. I feel so vulnerable, kneeling, totally naked, and incredibly aroused. Peeta moves from my breasts and whispers close to my ear, "I want to kiss every inch of you." I begin to feel wetness between my legs and I run my hand down his broad chest. "Lie down," he instructs me. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my legs from under me and lie beside him, resting my head on my hand. Peeta runs his fingers across my waist, caressing the skin under my breasts. I press my hand against his strong stomach muscles. Gently, he nudges my hip, so I roll on my back. "Remember, you can stop me anytime," his voice is deep and husky.

"Don't stop," is all I can say.

Peeta starts again at my lips, and then kisses my jaw, my neck, between my breasts. I squirm with pleasure. "Don't stop," I whimper again. Peeta continues down my stomach. He hesitates for a moment and sits up. His hands caress my legs. I see his gaze flicker to the apex of my thighs.

"Bend your legs," he instructs. I obediently comply. He places one hand on each of my knees. I know what he wants and I spread my legs, allowing him an uncensored view of me. His breath hitches. I wonder whether he will touch me there; I know I want him to. Can he see how wet I am? I feel heat rise into my cheeks.

"Don't stop," I reassure him again. He leans over me slowly kissing down my stomach. I tense. Is he going to use his mouth? Just the thought makes my legs quiver. I grip into the bed sheets as I watch him. I moan loudly as he presses his nose within my soft curls. "Don't stop," I moan wantonly.

"You smell so good," he groans. His comment sends rivets of pleasure throughout my body culminating between my thighs. Why do I want this so much? I can't think straight when Peeta's tongue licks me, dips into me, tasting me. All anxiety leaves my mind, the darkness is momentarily drained away and all I can concentrate on is the pleasure pulsating through me.

"You taste good, too," Peeta chuckles. I grunt and with both hands push Peeta's face back against me. He greedily licks and sucks the small bundle of nerves that make me moan his name. My hips trust forward uncontrollably. I have never felt like this before; I didn't know I could feel like this. I spread my legs wider feeling the pleasure climbing higher. I feel so free and I moan Peeta's name, loudly, repeatedly and without abandon.

"That's it!" I shout, "Right there, Peeta," I beg when he licks a part of me that sends nearly unbearable pleasure throughout my entire body. I feel as if I am running a marathon. I am approaching the end of the race, and I am winning. I am so close; I can see the finishing line. My heart is pumping fast and hard. I am panting for air. I am so close. I am nearly there. Suddenly I burst through the finishing line. My orgasm hits me hard. I thrust my hips gently as I begin to fall, still grabbing Peeta's hair. He helps me ride along the waves of pleasure, softly licking and kissing my sensitive, swollen skin. My harsh breaths begin to slow and my lewd moans become gentle whimpers. I release my grip on Peeta and he looks up at me, the biggest grin I have ever seen spreads across his face. His lips are red and puffy, my wetness smeared across his chin.

"That was insanely sexy," he laughs, licking his lips. I laugh breathlessly with him.

"Do you feel better?" I pant. Peeta looks confused. "The nightmare," I remind him.

"Can't remember what it was about." Peeta crawls up to me and I notice the rather large bulge in his jeans. "Don't worry about that. One step at a time," Peeta pulls the bed sheet over my exhausted body.

"Was that your first orgasm?" He asks. I nod, slightly embarrassed by the fact. "Glad I could have been of service," he chuckles again. I have never experienced such a long period of time where I did not had to endure feelings of regret, anger, resentment or pain. Peeta has given me so much pleasure and I want more. Peeta slips under the covers and holds me close. I feel so calm I think I might actually be dreaming. "I love you, Peeta," I sigh.

"I love you, Katniss," Peeta kisses my temple and I simply fall into a dreamless sleep.

Loud knocking makes me jump from the bed. I remember I am naked and pull the sheet from Peeta to cover myself.

"Good Morning," Peeta is awake grinning at me. For my surprise, he reaches over and yanks the sheet from me.

"Peeta!" I shout in disbelief, whilst trying to pull the sheet back, not doing a very good job of composing myself. We play tug of war with the sheet; the knocking becomes louder and more insistent. Peeta lets go so I can cover myself.

"I'm naked," I state the obvious.

"I know, I like it," Peeta teases.

"Go and get the door then. You, at least, have trousers on," I point to his jeans that he didn't take off last night. The knocking continues.

"Doesn't anyone use the doorbell anymore," as soon as Peeta says that the doorbell rings incessantly. Peeta goes down stairs, whilst I find some clothes to wear. I hear Greasy Sae's panicked voice and reality hits me full force. Last night with Peeta was an unexpected, but very welcome, interlude. Now we have to figure out what to do with Gale.

"Katniss!" I hear Peeta shout up the stairs.

"Coming!" I shout back whilst slipping on a tank top and shorts. I walk down the stairs to see Greasy Sae, her face is red and there are tears in her eyes. Peeta looks pale and extremely serious. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

"What's going on?" I question, my voice is shaky. Greasy Sae answers my question.

"It's Gale. The alcohol, all that morphling he has taken, I don't think his body can take it." I look at Peeta, who stares back at me apprehensively.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"He was sick all night and is refusing food and water. He lost consciousness about an hour ago." I don't know how to react. "Hazelle and the children are on their way, but I am not sure if it will be too late," Greasy Sae whimpers, holding her hand up to her mouth. "Haymitch is with him at the moment," she adds.

I am confused. Should I be pleased that Gale might die? Isn't that what I wanted? But it's not that simple. Gale was my best friend from when I was 12 years old. He taught me how to make snares and helped me hunt. We both felt the same pain losing our fathers to the mines. We both love the woods. We know what true hunger feels like. Then I think of Hazelle and the kids. How will they cope? I wanted something to happen, but not this. Not death. There has already been too much death.

"Katniss, you need to go a see him!" Greasy sae exclaims.

"No way!" Peeta is shaking his head.

"Peeta! Katniss and Gale have known each other for a very long time. This might be the last time she will get to see him. He is alone..." Greasy Sae pleads. She doesn't know what had happened between me and Gale and I wonder how she would react if she did know. I am biting my nails again.

"Gale got himself into this mess. This is not something she should have to deal with," Peeta gesticulates wildly. Greasy Sae is looking at Peeta like she doesn't even know who he is.

"Peeta, that is a terrible thing to say. I know you have your differences, but what if he dies?" Greasy Sae continues to plead.

"Katniss, you're seriously not considering going to him?" Peeta looks at me horrified. I don't know what to think anymore. With Peeta and Greasy Sae glaring at me, playing tennis with their arguments, I feel sick. I don't know what to do.

* * *

What do you think Katniss should do?

Would love the feedback to help me write the next chapter. PM or review me. Thanks.


	20. Chapter 20

**********************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters**

* * *

**********************************Just want to thank everyone who gave me feedback regarding Katniss' dilemma. It was a great help. This is the second to last chapter. Chapter 21 will be the epilogue. Please feel free to review or PM me any ideas for the epilogue. Thank you.**

* * *

**20**

I slowly start to shake my head as my decision is made, my eyes flicker to Greasy Sae. "No, I won't see Gale," Peeta sighs with relief. Greasy Sae gasps in indignation.

"Katniss, I expected more from you..." her voice is stern, as if she is scolding a child for staying out past dinner time. "I really hope you change your mind," Greasy Sae implores me before turning on her heel and blustering out the front door, her long plain dress billowing behind her.

"You made the right choice," Peeta says. My eyes turn to Peeta's and he wraps his arms around me. I rest my head on his bare chest feeling the soft hair tickle my chin. I am surprised when I feel tears fall silently from my eyes.

Later that day, I watch Peeta handle the bakery customers with ease. He smiles and laughs making them feel welcome and important. I remember the comradery Peeta fabricated during his interviews with Caesar Flickerman. How easy it was for him to hide his true emotions and play up to the cameras. When I try to exude the same sociability I just feel foolish.

My mind soon wanders back to Gale and I wonder if he has regained consciousness. I feel terrible, knowing that he is possibly fighting for his life. Before the rape, I would have spent every moment by his bedside. Our lives were so different before I was thrust into the Hunger Games; dreams of escaping into the woods, taking a chance at freedom. How he wanted to have kids some day. My throat tightens at the thought of what could have been for Gale.

I stare at my old Victor's house on our way back from the bakery. The Village is eerily quiet, the only sounds are our footsteps upon the gravelled street. Peeta and I hold hands; it has become a habit from when we were paraded around as star-crossed lovers for the Capitol's enjoyment. I stop short outside the house. Peeta gently tugs my arm. "Come on, Katniss," Peeta tries to coax me away.

"I think I should see Gale," I murmur.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Peeta exerts, frustration laced cautiously through every word.

"Peeta, before all this, Gale was a good friend. Haven't we all done things we regret? Killed people, hurt people," my voice is quivering. Peeta lets go of my hand.

"I can't go with you. I can't look at him knowing what he has done to you."

"I have to do this." With new found resolve, I begin to walk towards my old Victor's house (the house of horrors), leaving Peeta standing helplessly in my wake.

The front door is unlocked and I hear voices up stairs. Greasy Sae stands as I walk into my old bedroom. Why this room? There are so many terrible memories. "Thank goodness. Gale, Katniss is here," Greasy Sae chirps. Gale has obviously regained consciousness and his head slowly turns to me. I stare at him lying helplessly on the bed, my childhood friend and my rapist, his skin a putrid pale yellow. Haymitch is standing by the unlit hearth, his hair covers his features, but I know he is glaring at me. I slowly step towards the bed wishing Peeta was beside me. Gale reaches out. I feel myself trembling. His strength waivers and his hand drops to the bed. Panic sets in as I realize Gale is lying in the same bed he raped me in. I take a step back, but bump into something solid, and I feel a pair of hands rest on my shoulders. I know by the familiar scent that it's Peeta. He whispers in my ear, "I could never let you deal with this alone," I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Katniss, will you ever forgive me?" his voice is weak.

"You hurt me so much," I reply.

"I know," Gale whimpers. "Not one day has passed that I have not regretted it," his breathing becomes laboured. I look up to see Greasy Sae and Haymitch standing together on the opposite side of the room. Greasy Sae looks confused and is whispering something to Haymitch. Haymitch looks straight into my eyes, before whispering back to Greasy Sae. I know what he has said by her reaction. She gasps, holding her hand to her lips; she turns her pitying gaze towards me. I feel angry at Haymitch for telling her my secret; for telling her whilst Gale lies here dying. Peeta's hands are still on my shoulders and he rubs them gently. He must have noticed the exchange too.

"I can't ever forgive what you did, Gale..." I am cut short as Hazelle and Gale's three siblings come bursting into the room.

"My boy!" Hazelle sobs, rushing straight to Gale's side; she holds his hand and cups his cheek. I make brief eye contact with Rory, before he joins his mother, Vick and Posy around Gale's bedside. I feel terrible and hopeless. Greasy Sae is still looking sympathetically at me and I can't stand being there any longer. I turn and walk out of the room, I sense Peeta following close behind me.

I walk past our house in the direction of the woods. It is still light, but a cool evening breeze has set in. Peeta walks a few steps behind me and I know he is struggling to keep up with my fast pace. He doesn't say anything, just follows. His loud steps irritate me and I desperately want to be alone. I know my stamina is greater than his, so I hope that he will stop following me once he gets tired. He doesn't, he follows me deeper into the woods. About half an hour in, I turn to him, "Stop following me, Peeta!" I shout. He stops and gives me a determined look.

"I told you, I am not going to let you deal with this alone!" he shouts back.

The weight of the day's events and everything before it brings me to my knees. Peeta is at my side almost instantly. Instead of holding me up, he sinks to the ground with me. I don't think I can take any more; I am living in a nightmare. Peeta pulls me into his lap and cradles me like he did all those months ago in the meadow. He hums the Valley song, trying desperately to comfort me. It just makes me cry harder.

I am not sure how long we sit on the ground, surrounded by dense trees and moving shadows. I am no longer crying, I just lay, curled in Peeta's arms, staring into nothingness.

"The sun is setting," Peeta whispers. "Do you want to go and watch the sunset?"

I automatically nod, and allow Peeta to help me stand and walk me out from under the trees. He finds a clearing, which gives us an unhindered view of the sun as it slowly creeps beyond the horizon. Pink and orange hues streak across the sky. Peeta sits and I settle myself between his legs and he hugs me from behind. I am not wearing much and the cool breeze makes me shiver slightly, causing Peeta to hold me closer to him.

I think back to how we spent our last day before the Quell, how Peeta was claiming to be practising his knot tying with my hair. "Is orange still your favorite colour?" I wonder aloud.

"Yes," he replies instantly. "Do you still like green?" he laughs lightly.

"Yes," I nod, gazing out towards the sun which now looks like a huge glowing ember in the sky. "Do you remember the last time we watched the sunset together?".

Peeta squeezes me tightly, "I could never forget," he replies, sadly.

"I remember thinking that I could count the number of sunsets I had left on my hand," I lament. "I didn't want to miss a single one," I sigh.

"Well, you're still here. Maybe we should make a habit of this?" I nod in agreement. That day before the Quell, I didn't have a future, especially not with Peeta and here we are now, a possible future for the taking.

Eventually, the sun sets and darkness makes it tricky to get back. Luckily, I know the woods well; I expertly guide Peeta back to the Village. He is limping slightly because of his prosthetic leg and I feel guilty having made him walk so far. Haymitch is standing outside our house as we approach. I remember that I am angry with him for telling Greasy Sae about Gale. I try to ignore him, but he walks straight up to us.

"Where have you two been?" Haymich grumbles.

"Went for a walk," I reply flippantly.

"Hazelle wanted to see you," Haymich points his finger at me. I realise Haymitch is slightly more drunk than he was a few hours ago. "Gale passed away about an hour ago," Haymitch says darkly. My stomach flips and my breath catches in my throat. Overcome with the news, I push past Haymitch, run into the house, up the stairs, into the bedroom and fling myself onto the bed. Pulling the bed sheet to completely cover me, I cry for the loss of my friend.

When I wake it is dark and I am alone. I begin to cry again when I think of Gale. I press my face into the pillow to stifle my heavy sobs. I hear Peeta enter the room and his hand begins to rub my back, soothing me. I cry for Gale; for Hazelle and Rory; for Vick and Posy. My head aches and my eyes feel puffy. I sigh shakily with exhaustion.

"Are you hungry?" Peeta's voice is soft and concerned.

"No," I haven't eaten since lunchtime, so I know I should be. "I just want to sleep," I groan.

Peeta knows what I mean and he lies next to me. I turn to face him and he wipes away the stains from my cheeks left by my tears.

"We'll get through this," he says assuredly. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heart. I take comfort in the fact that it is still beating and that Peeta is alive.

The bakery stays closed the next day. In the morning, Peeta holds me tightly after I shed a few more tears. He then makes me tea and breakfast; I find it hard to eat, but Peeta doesn't pressure me. The doorbell rings and my heart sinks. I open the door to reveal a very tired and pale Hazelle.

"I am so sorry I didn't come sooner," Hazelle says as she accepts the tea I pass to her. Peeta is also sitting at the table staring gravely into this half drunk coffee. "The funeral is tomorrow," Hazelle's voice is more high-pitched than usual. I sit down next to her and she reaches over and strokes my cheek, shaking her head. Her expression becomes severe. "Greasy Sae told me what he did to you," there is anger in her voice. Peeta looks up from his coffee. "Ever since you volunteered for the Hunger Games he has not been the same. When you went into the arena, that's when he started drinking. He kept it well hidden for a long time," I feel hurt thinking that Hazelle is attributing Gale's drinking to me, but a little part of me thinks she is right. "Don't blame yourself, Katniss. He loved you, a little too much, to the point of obsession really. I can never excuse what he did to you." That's when Hazelle starts to cry. Tears tickle down my own cheeks. "I will do everything to make sure you are happy, Katniss," Hazelle blubbers. Peeta passes us both a tissue.

"I'm okay now, Hazelle. Peeta is looking after me. You concentrate on your family," I try to comfort her.

"Don't feel like you have to come to the funeral. I know you came to see him before he died. Thank you. I know how difficult that must have been," Hazelle leans over and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and wish for a split second that my own mother was here. Hazelle tells us that they will visit when they can, but they will be going back to District 2 since Rory is beginning an apprenticeship. She says they are fine there.

The next day, I don't attend the funeral. However, later that evening I make my way to his grave, alone. Sitting upon the ground, I feel the urge to talk, so I do. "Gale, I have made a decision," I speak as if he is there. "I will only remember the Gale that I cared about before I went into the Games and before the rebellion." I pick at the grass surrounding his grave. "There is already too much pain and hatred in this world." I sigh deeply. "I only want to surround myself with the good things and that includes the good memories of you." I suddenly feel stupid talking to a piece of stone. I shake my head and leave, knowing Peeta will be at home waiting for me.


	21. Epilogue Part 1

**********************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters**

* * *

The epilogue is going to be split into 2 parts. Here is part 1.

* * *

**Epilogue – Part 1**

Watery vapour from my steady breath forms a mist that rises and fades into the crisp winter air. The icy breeze pinches viciously at my exposed skin coaxing an aberrant rosiness to form upon my cheeks. Whilst my padded coat and woollen hat provide some protection from the wintry onslaught, the chill seeps deeply into my muscles. Casting the thoughts of the cold aside, I place the nock of my arrow into my bow string and silently draw it out. I train my eyes upon the prey; its small claws gently grip what appears to be some sort of nut. The heedful creature stands stock still sensing my presence. Its furry tail twitches nervously. Turning its head towards me, I stare into its beetle-black eyes. Swoosh! I instantly let go of my arrow and it sails unforgiving into the left eye of its target. A grin creeps onto my face and I feel satisfied; through the eye every time.

I place the squirrel into my game bag. Looking up towards the sky, the grey clouds hang low and heavy. A frozen rain drop delicately dances along the icy wind before resting on the sleeve of my coat. It does not melt instantly, indicative of the bitter cold temperature. I should start heading home, but I have only been in the woods for a couple of hours and the call of the hunt tempts me into staying awhile longer.

Half an hour later, the snow has picked up and I can barely see the leafless trees through the wash of white. A blizzard. I would be pushing my luck if I stayed out any longer. I start to trudge, through the gathering snow, in the direction of the village, but every tree and bush start to look the same. I turn and see the indentations of my footprints rapidly covered by a fresh blanket of snow. I know these woods like the back of my hand. Decidedly, I rely on my natural instinct and continue on my original path.

I realize that I have been walking for a long time when the thin evening light starts to fade. Heaviness settles into the pit of my stomach as I think of Peeta waiting for me. I should have been home hours ago; he is cooking dinner tonight. However, the wetness from the heavy snow and the pain of the icy wind slashing across my face distracts me from the worry and hunger. My boots are futile against the snow and my toes are numb. The wind pitilessly thrusts large snowflakes against me, obscuring my vision completely. Shivering profusely, I lean against a snow covered tree and breathe into my cupped hands trying to warm them. Gloves would have been a good idea, but they make hunting tricky. I kneel low to the ground, using the tree trunk as a shield, and decide to wait until the blizzard calms. But it doesn't. I don't know how long I huddle there. Clumsily pulling my sleeves over my hands, I place them between my thighs trying to warm them. Closing my eyes, I think of warmth: the hearth; my bed; Peeta's comforting embrace.

I jolt awake to the strange dull quiet that only exists when thick snow covers the earth. Whilst brushing the layer of snow that has settled on my jacket, I realize my nose and lips are numb from the cold. Standing is difficult; it's as if my muscles and joints have frozen in place. Now the blizzard has stopped it is easier to make out my surroundings. I study the shape of the trees and bushes. Even in the darkness, the sky is a dull creamy white, as if a large layer of snow covers it too; an exact reflection of the blanketed ground below me. I must keep moving. Aimlessly, I choose a direction and walk haggardly through the unremitting snow drifts.

A small familiar tree catches my eye. I let out a long, low breath. Picking up the pace I walk as fast as my stilted joints will let me. The merciless cold air pinches every pain receptor in my body and I want to be home. Peeta is all I can think about as I shuffle through the deserted village. Relief and happiness flutter seamlessly in my empty stomach as I approach my house; the lights are on. Small delicate snowflakes once again commence their interlude; the larger snowflakes make their grand entrance as I reach the front door. I fumble for the key; however, my hands are so cold I cannot grip the small metal object and it falls, leaving a key shaped serration in the snow.

I try again to pick it up, but to no avail. I slam my fist against the door frame in frustration and in the hope that Peeta will come and help me. A few seconds later, the door swings open to reveal a very flustered Peeta.

"Katniss!" he exclaims. "Where the hell have you been?" The relief in his voice is evident and the concern in his eyes penetrates straight through me. Peeta takes my frozen hand and guides me into the inviting heat of our hallway. The bright light and warmth stings my eyes, whilst a shudder ripples through every muscle in my body.

"I am so cold," I try and laugh it off. I place my game bag by the door and attempt to unbutton my sodden coat, but my hands are unable to grip. Peeta as usual steps in and does it for me. He slides the coat from my shoulders and we both notice that I am wet through. I slop off my soaked woollen hat and Peeta takes it, along with my coat, and hangs both on the gold plated hook beside the door. I shiver again.

"A warm bath will sort you out," Peeta mutters. His voice is stern and I am sure he is upset that I stayed out so long and during a snow storm at that. I nod and he takes my hand. I relish in the warmth radiating from his body as he guides me up the stairs to the bath room.

Peeta turns the faucet allowing the hot water to rush quickly into the bathtub, filling the room with a loud gushing sound. I remember a time when a bucket of hot water was a luxury, let alone a whole bathtub full of it. Peeta trails his fingers through the water checking its temperature. The ice encasing my muscles is melting and I slip off my soggy jumper and pants. My wet socks make a slapping sound on the floor after I peel them from my feet. Peeta turns off the faucet whilst I shed the rest of my clothes. I can't wait to feel the warm water on my skin. Peeta's eyes momentarily graze over my naked body. I smile sheepishly then bend to check the water temperature with my hand. I groan in pleasure as the warm water soothes my cold fingers. Without a second thought, I step into the bathtub and slowly ease myself in, sighing as the water cradles me like a comforting embrace. I cup some of the water in my hands and bring it to my neck, allowing its warmth to consume me. It trickles down my body and I sigh again with relief. Peeta is watching me and I feel child-like with him towering above me.

"Do you want to join me?" I question, gazing up at him. My heart sinks when he shakes his head.

"I'll heat up the food," he replies impassively.

"Okay," is all I can say as Peeta turns and makes his way down-stairs.

I don't want to leave the warm bath; every few minutes I top it up with hot water, my body temperature eventually returns to normal. I rub shampoo into my hair and lie back allowing the clear liquid to swish and slosh over me. The water is so hot by now that I can actually see the steam rising from it and condensation rests on the mirror. Peeta walks in holding a freshly laundered towel and my bathrobe.

"Are you feeling better?" Peeta asks. The tone in his voice is warmer than before. I nod and lift myself out of the tub. Peeta hangs my robe on the hook behind the door and unfolds the towel for me. I stand naked in front of him, water droplets trickle down my skin which has reddened from the heat. I have no shame when it comes to Peeta; he knows everything about me; every freckle; every faded scar. He swiftly wraps the towel around me and I love the softness against my skin. The material is warm, and I know Peeta probably put it on the radiator before bringing it to me. He pulls me close, holding me in a tight embrace. I want to wrap my arms around him, but he has trapped me within the soft confinements of the towel.

"I was worried," he mumbles into my damp hair.

"I'm sorry. I got lost," I try to explain myself. Peeta moves his hands over the towel against my body, drying me in the process.

"You're okay and that's what matters. The food is ready, I'll meet you downstairs." He moves away from me and I hold onto the towel. Leaning down he places a sweet, gentle kiss on my cheek. As he withdraws, there is a trace of a smile on his lips and a look on his face that never fails to send excitement pulsating through me.

"By the way, don't expect to get away with stripping naked in front of me earlier," Peeta whispers salaciously before playfully tugging on the precariously wrapped towel. I gasp melodramatically and grip tightly onto my dignity; an uncontrollably smirk pulls at my lips. Peeta laughs as he turns to leave. He stops short of the door and turns to face me. "You look sexy as hell right now," he says breathlessly, an undeniably lascivious grin is plastered across his face. I pretend to look shocked and he winks at me.

Peeta makes his way downstairs and I dry myself properly before putting on my bathrobe. As I walk into the main living area, I stare into the hearth. The room is incredibly warm and the large crackling fire appears to be the only source of light. I watch the flickering flames lick higher and higher and I shudder, not from cold, but from the terrible memories that often invade my thoughts.

I try and fight them, I file through my list of kindnesses; my usual game, ticking them off as I go along. It is repetitive, but it usually works. I close my eyes, feeling the heat of the fire beat against my exposed skin. I remember Prim; I can't believe it has been five years since her death. She would be 18 now. I think of Peeta bringing me dandelion flowers every spring time. The thought of Gale pulls me down again. The memory of that terrible night has faded with time, but it can still burn straight through me. I think of Bay teaching me how to make lemon biscuits; Gale's large hands gagging me; Haymitch trying to comfort me; Rue with the spear through her chest; Peeta kissing me; Cinna; the nightmares; Peeta making love to me; Peeta gripping my arms behind my back as he whispers death into my ear. I feel as if I am a ship battling against a storm, dipping and diving over tall unforgiving waves. The aroma of the woods on a summer day and freshly baked bread; hunting with my bow and arrow; Peeta's hair in the morning; Peeta smiling at me. I breathe deeply focusing all my concentration on the good things.

Eventually, I open my eyes and stare at the clock on the wall. 11.30pm; it feels much later than that. I hear clinking of cutlery in the kitchen and follow the source of the noise. Peeta is standing by the stove ladling steaming hot soup into bowls. "Just in time," I say.

"Yep," Peeta replies casually.

I eat quickly remembering how hungry I am. Peeta finishes his soup as I stand to begin the dishes. He places his empty bowl in the sink whilst I put on the rubber gloves and squirt liquid soap onto the sponge letting the water run hot and steaming from the faucet. Peeta takes the clean dishes from me, dries them before putting them back in their designated cupboard.

"The snow is still coming down hard; if we are lucky we might even get snowed in!" Peeta says gleefully. We were snowed in for four days last winter and Peeta kept me thoroughly entertained, the memory makes me smile.

"Oh, I hope so," I laugh, turning off the faucet; the rubber gloves make a slapping noise as I take them off.

"Me, too," Peeta whispers suggestively into my ear, his chest is pressed firmly against my back. His hand reaches up and pulls one side of my robe down revealing my bare shoulder. Peeta's hot breath warms my skin making me grip tightly onto the edge of the sink. Pushing my hair to the side, he begins to press hot, wet kisses down my neck and along my shoulder. "Oh God," I whisper breathlessly, enjoying the feel of his hands moving from my hips to my waist. I yelp when he presses his arousal against my behind.

"I want you so badly," Peeta growls, his lips press against my ear as he speaks. I moan at his words and heat rushes throughout my entire body. Peeta's hands slide over the soft material of my bathrobe, his breathing already laboured as he slowly unties the fabric belt. The material gently falls open and Peeta presses his hand against my bare stomach. I take his hand in my own and begin to guide it down to where I need it most. "Not yet," he whispers and sucks gently on my neck. Peeta's hands move to cup my breasts and he squeezes them gently. I hum with pleasure and wiggle my behind so it rubs against him. Consequently, he sucks harder against my skin and his left hand falls across my stomach, moving torturously close to the apex of my thighs. However, he doesn't touch me, I groan in frustration. He knows what I like; he knows what I want; he is purposefully teasing me. "Come on, Peeta," I demand. I feel his chest vibrate with silent laughter; one hand massages my inner thigh, the other stays firmly attached to my breast.

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it," Peeta growls.

"You know what I want," I reply bluntly.

"I want to hear you say it," his says.

"Just touch me, Peeta."

"Where?

"You know where!"

"Tell me." I roll my eyes at his response.

"I am not going to say it. Touch me otherwise I will do it myself." I start to feel frustrated for several reasons.

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like a bad idea." I feel Peeta's teasing grin next to my ear.

"Peeta..." but before I can continue, his hand slides in between my legs. He parts me and dips his middle finger inside me. "Oh fuck," I sigh.

"I love it when you swear," he murmurs against my ear. I tip my head back against his shoulder.

"Fuck," I say again; we both laugh breathlessly. Peeta slowly draws out his middle finger, trailing moisture up to the sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs. He begins a rhythm that he knows will leave me hot and wanting more. My breaths come faster and I can feel my heart beat racing as I edge closer and closer to the precipice. "I am so close," I gasp. Peeta stops. I nearly force his hand back. "What are you doing?" I whine.

"Turn around," Peeta whispers dangerously. I obediently follow his instruction. Peeta pushes the bathrobe off me completely, letting it slump to the floor. I am completely naked and he is fully dressed. I pull at his t-shirt.

"Off," I order. He grins in response."

So demanding." He grips his t-shirt, pulls it over his head and drops it to the floor. I press my lips to his broad muscular chest, enjoying his manly scent before running my fingers down his stomach and expertly flicking open the top button of his jeans. Leaning up, I kiss his soft lips and our tongues meet. I tug at his jeans, so the zip will undo, but it doesn't. I break the kiss.

"Where's the zip?" Confused, I stare down at the large bulge in his pants.

"Buttons," Peeta smirks, undoing the last few himself. He places his finger under my chin and lifts my head to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, his ashy blonde hair is messy already. We kiss again, Peeta's hands cup my face and his tongue is urgent against mine. I desperately yank his jeans down, along with his underwear and grip him firmly in my left hand.

"Mmmm, Katniss," he groans against my mouth, sending a tickling sensation from my lips straight to my groin. I rub him slowly, the way he likes it, before quickening my pace. He kisses down my neck.

"I want to fuck you against the sink," he gasps against my collar bone.

"That's new," I say, backing myself up against the sink in anticipation.

"You know me, I like to try different things," he follows, presses me against the cool enamel which sends goose pimples across my back.

"Lift yourself up and open your legs." Peeta's eyes are filled with lust and adventure. Tentatively, I grip onto the edge of the sink and Peeta helps me up. I spread my legs; Peeta stands between them. It dawns on us both that this isn't going to work as the sink is too high.

"This isn't going to work is it?" I grumble.

"Let's try the counter." Peeta lifts me off the sink and I walk to the counter, which is slightly lower. I grip it and Peeta again helps me up. A loud crashing, clinking sound echoes through the kitchen as I knock over several empty glasses resting on the countertop.

"Shit," I mumble. Peeta laughs.

"This is still too high," I moan with exasperation.

"The table?" Peeta sighs, helping me down again. I sit on the table which, as we know from previous experience, is just the right height. I lean back, resting the palms of my hands against the wooden table; brazenly I spread my legs. Peeta eagerly kicks off his jeans and underwear which are still around his ankles. Without warning he plunges two fingers deep inside me and I moan noisily, wrapping my legs tightly around him. I lean my head back allowing my long hair to almost touch the wood below me. Peeta slides his long fingers out before slipping them back in. I whimper and feel a satisfied smile spread greedily across my face as Peeta stretches me, making me wet, prepping me for the main event. Lifting my head, I watch Peeta's fingers glide in and out, in and out. I chew on my bottom lip and gaze at him; our eyes meet and excitement runs through me. The look Peeta gives me is almost feral; hungry; and I have never felt so beautiful, so desired.

Unexpectedly, Peeta removes his fingers and lowers his head; I automatically rest my feet on his shoulders. He delivers gentle kisses to the sensitive flesh between my legs. I moan incomprehensively. "Please," I pant. "Please stop teasing me," I moan once again. "Peeta, I need you inside me." Peeta looks up at me from between my thighs. The look of want in his eyes, his swollen lips, my moisture smeared across his face propels me into a tailspin. My arms begin to shake from holding myself up for so long. Peeta's eyes stare passionately into mine as I watch his tongue circle my swollen clit. "Oh," is all I can muster before I close my eyes and allow my arms to give way. I lie wantonly across our kitchen table, my legs spread wide; I am completely vulnerable, at Peeta's mercy, and I love it.


	22. Epilogue Part 2 - The Final Chapter

**********************************Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins is the owner of this amazing trilogy and incredible characters**

**Epilogue – Part 2**

We have made love countless times. In the beginning it was complicated, the constant reminder of my 'first time' causing me to run and hide physically and emotionally. Peeta was patient and gentle, never pressuring me, always allowing me to guide us through the dense woods of our sexual relationship. He would always be there to reassure me when I lost my way or it became too dark for me to cope.

I now feel intense security and pleasure as the cool, smooth table presses against my back. The only sound in the kitchen is my hot panting breaths and the whistle of the cold wind from outside. Peeta is now leaning over me, smiling; my legs dangle off the edge of the table and my skin is flushed with arousal.

"Come with me," Peeta says whilst holding out his hand. His lips are swollen from sucking and kissing the pulsating flesh between my quivering thighs. I place my hand in his and he helps me from the table top. I am intrigued as to why he stopped. The last few minutes of teasing was surely going to result in us having sex on the kitchen table. Peeta leads me out of the kitchen, our bare feet pad along the cool tiled floor then onto the malleable carpet of the main living area. The fire has died down slightly leaving the soft furnishings in a warm inviting glow. We stand in front of the delicate flickering flames and Peeta smiles at me. I feel a quizzical look etch across my face.

"What are we doing? I thought you wanted to fuck me on the table..." I shake my head and raise my hands in confusion. He laughs and I can't help but admire his strong naked body, the hair on his chest leading down towards his protruding erection.

"Just give me a second," he almost whispers. Peeta moves towards the couch and grabs a throw and a couple of cushions. He unfolds the throw and shakes it out, letting it glide to the floor in front of the hearth. He places the cushions at one end and extends his hand to me. I raise an eyebrow.

"Peeta, what?" I question curiously, placing my hand in his.

"Lie down."

"Are you trying to be romantic?" I scoff.

"Yes," Peeta answers utterly deadpan. The soft glow of the fire makes his gaze appear darker and I physically feel the atmosphere become thick with lust. Without breaking eye contact, I lower myself on top of the throw and rest my head against the soft cushions. Peeta lies next to me, kissing me deeply. I feel his hand sweep across my stomach and between my legs, touching me, gently slipping two fingers into me.

"You're so wet," he mumbles against my lips.

"You've teased me enough, don't you think?" I smile and squeeze my thighs together trapping his hand between them. He pulls away and I release his hand.

"I'll be right back. Protection," he shrugs, looking slight abashed. I roll my eyes. Peeta is the king of prolonged sexual arousal; I have officially crowned him the biggest tease, although he does make a sensible point. He leaves me lying in front of the fire, completely naked and unforgivably aroused. I turn my head and gaze into the flames as I hear Peeta's soft footsteps ascend the stairs.

I listen to the putt, putt sound of a trapped flame in the hearth. My mind wanders in to dangerous territory and terrible thoughts begin to trickle through my protective barrier. A wisp of wind from the blizzard outside sends haunting echoes through the chimney, making the flames dance and flutter, and I think of exploding bombs and piercing screams. My body trembles uncontrollably and I sit up, panic seeping into my muscles. Closing my eyes, a perfect image of Prim materialises from the darkness. The warmth from the fire feels oppressive and the smell of heated coal burns my nostrils. The image of Prim fades, the feeling of intense loss sinks hard into the pit of my stomach and anchors itself within me. The memory of losing Prim has never faded; it has only been masked by layers and layers of fresh pain.

"Peeta!" I call out. I crave his comforting embrace, his soothing words. I feel tears squeeze from my tight shut eyes. "Peeta," I whimper weakly. Soon after Gale's death, I went to a place where even Peeta could not reach me. I had felt confused over my grief for Gale. I tried, dear God I tried to make sense of it. After everything that had happened, despite Peeta always being there for me, I couldn't cope. I don't remember how long I lay in bed. I didn't eat, I didn't wash; all I did was sleep, like I was exhausted from the pain. However, Peeta's consistent and unconditional love eventually saved me. Sadly, I am never far away from becoming lost in the torment.

I stare, through unshed tears, into the glowing embers. A small flame dances across the heated coal. Pressing my hand to my chest, I think of Rue and the others; the people who lost their lives to The Games. Hearing Peeta descending the stairs, I try and play my new game, thinking of the good things, but I am too far gone. My breaths become short and pain sears through my chest. Dread sinks itself into me like a sharpened dagger and I feel the familiar tingling in my finger tips. A chocking sensation claims my throat and my stomach churns. Peeta crouches in front of me, but a ringing in my ears muffles his voice. I feel detached from reality; I become an observer. Peeta grabs the throw from the floor and wraps it around me, shielding my naked body. He looks worried, but he is calm, he knows what to do, he knows how to bring me back. The soft material of the throw feels rough against my skin. Peeta places his hands on my face, running his thumbs over my cheeks. I try to focus on him; the hues of blue in his eyes, his flushed cheeks, his lips forming soothing words that I cannot decipher...

"Breathe," I hear Peeta say, as if in surround sound and I am abruptly thrust back into my body, my heart continues to battle within my chest. "The fear you feel, it's not real." I nod and the tip of my nose begins to tingle from lack of oxygen. "You are at home, with me. I love you. You are safe." Peeta soothes as I inhale a strangled breath; he stares deeply into my eyes, imploring me. "Come on, baby, stay calm," Peeta whispers.

Despite Peeta's presence, my panic escalates and my breaths shorten and turn into guttural gasps. "Breathe," Peeta says firmly but I can't, I just can't. The lack of control makes me feel worse and my body begins to shake. I feel trapped, I need to move and without even thinking I stand, the throw ripples to the floor. Peeta stands with me and holds me steady as my heart pounds, each thump like a firing canon, blood rushing to my head.

"Katniss, I will count, okay, and you concentrate on breathing," Peeta looks flustered as he places his hands on my bare shoulders. My gasps are loud and are only overshadowed by the screaming winds from outside. "Breathe in for two seconds and then out for two seconds, okay?" I nod vigorously. "Breathe in...one, two...and then out...one, two..." my eyes are focussed on Peeta's as he counts my breaths in and out of me. Gradually, my breathing slows and my racing heart is reduced to a steady gallop.

I don't know how long we stand counting and breathing. The fire eventually burns out, its presence only known by the residual warmth in the room and the nostalgic smell of heated coal.

"I'm sorry," I snivel.

"We're okay, nothing to be sorry for," Peeta wraps his arms around me and I return the embrace. My breasts press against his firm chest and I feel a sad longing. Peeta runs his fingers though my hair.

"Please still make love to me?" I beg. I feel terrible for spoiling the moment and for all the moments I have ruined in the past due to my anxiety.

"No pressure. I just want to be with you," my heart flutters at his words.

I lead Peeta to the bedroom and we lay together between the cool sheets. The room is dark; the haunting wind whistles and jostles through nearby trees and knocks belligerently against the windows. I feel exhausted after panic attacks, and crave comfort and Peeta is always there, always willing, never angry. I could not survive without him. I press my lips to his strong jaw and he tightens his arms around me.

"We don't have to do this," Peeta mumbles.

"I want to," I reply before climbing on top of him, straddling his hips and allowing his growing erection to rub against me. I hum with pleasure. Peeta's arm reaches at something on the bedside table and I lean up, gripping my hand around his hardness. I hear the familiar rip of foil. A few seconds later Peeta's hands are on my hips and I raise my body. I stop and try to make out Peeta's features in the darkness. I press the tip of him against my entrance as he runs his hands up and down my thighs, across my hips and backside. I slowly lower myself, revelling in the satisfying heated stretch as Peeta buries himself deep within me.

Peeta groans as I rock my hips. Our movements are slow and gentle, a complete contrast to our earlier rough foreplay. I need more contact, so I pull Peeta out of me and lie down facing away from him. I don't have to say or explain; Peeta knows exactly what I want. He presses up against me, wraps both arms around my body and I push my behind against him as he re-enters me. One of Peeta's hands cups my breast, and the other slips between my thighs, rubbing lazy circles against my clit.

"Mmmmm," I hum again as Peeta trusts gently into me. We fit so perfectly and I forget about the day and the attack and all I can think about is Peeta. He surrounds me. I yearn for release and the sound of Peeta's soft grunts of pleasure against my hair excites me further.

"Tell me you love me," I gasp, needing one last mental push; his love for me is my biggest turn on.

Peeta's trusts remain slow and deliberate and his middle finger moves purposefully around and around the bundle of sensitive nerves between my legs. He presses tender kisses along my shoulder and I feel my slick walls tense around him, claiming him as mine.

"I love you, Katniss," his voice is rough with lust and his words send me sailing over the precipice. I don't care how loud I am as my orgasm grapples through my entire body. Peeta's tantalizing fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to entice the most euphoria out of my sensitive flesh. Peeta tenses beside me and his trusts become more erratic. His gasps and groans send jolts of excitement through me; I feel incredibly sexy knowing it is me that has brought him to this point. He verbalizes a warning before riding me through his orgasm.

I feel physically and mentally exhausted and lie limply within Peeta's arms. Peeta does not pull out of me straight away, but instead pulls me closer to him and whispers his affection for me once again. My heart swells with love for him. Despite the pain and the loss and the hurt, I know that Peeta will always be there, to love and care for me, and most importantly, to bring me dandelions in the spring.

The End


End file.
